


i reached for the shadows and it simply held my hand

by velvet_and_shortchanged



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Bro fucking sucks is the bottom line, Dreams and Nightmares, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Insomnia, Isolation, Karkat is a.... vague shadow creature, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Psychological Horror, Romance and Horror, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-06-29 12:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvet_and_shortchanged/pseuds/velvet_and_shortchanged
Summary: Dave Strider can't sleep for a multitude of reasons.1, his brother slash guardian doesn't do his job in either respect, and he goes to school with bruises and cuts and a general sense of distrust. He can't trust his own apartment, his friends, or his school when it comes to Bro.2, some weird kid named Karkat seems to be following his every move. He's quiet and angry all the time. Not exactly angry at Dave. But he talks about things Dave doesn't understand, and he can't help but hopelessly crush on Karkat without saying a word. Being gay at school is bad enough already. He doesn't want to scare off the best friend he's ever had.And 3, there's something dark under his bed that is either trying to kill him, or doing its damn best to protect him.





	1. what do you want from me

**Author's Note:**

> hellooooo!
> 
> in the past four days i have fucked up my sleep schedule and slept from around 3-4 am to 11. so i finally finished this! i have also read way too much fan fiction. stop being so talented, all of you.
> 
> it's dark, yall. bro is shitty and dave's toughing it out at the beginning. but things get interesting and there's a little magic and then we get some fun stuff with karkat! 
> 
> if you're skeptical, just remember that i wrote all this based off some drawing i saw on tumblr in 2016. "what if you reached out to the amorphous darkness underneath your bed, and it held your hand?"
> 
> mind the tags! there will be very mega vague mentions of sexual abuse between dave and bro. suuuuuper lightly implied but it's clear dave isn't going to outright mention it or even think about it. and bro's regular shitty behavior of course. 
> 
> <3

It has been four days, two hours, and twenty seven minutes since you have last slept. You've always been good with time like that. 

Sleep? 

Not so much.

You aren't exactly sure _what's_ causing it. Medically speaking, that is. Because people don't just... Not sleep. For this long. This isn't exactly the first time this has happened. You've stayed up way too late talking with your friends before, ending up watching light begin to pour in the windows, shades slipping off your nose as you start to unintentionally get hot and heavy with your keyboard. You've snoozed on your drawing tablet before, but that was back when you actually had it. It was warm and you used to stay up way too fucking long working on your comic to achieve that great levels of absolutely fucking ridiculous that it always reached flawlessly. But in those instances, it was a one time thing. Maybe twice in a week, if you were a dumbass frequently enough. This is consistent pattern. The fear of closing your eyes is so fucking prevalent that you just... Lay here. Staring at the white ceiling. It's probably not fucking healthy. That's what your friends would say if you told them. But you do know, kind of, what's causing this absolute shitfucking madness. It really is madness, at this point, some kind of knot in your brain that you somehow managed to twist up into a configuration of tight, slimy brain rope. Yeah, that's disgusting, but when you're just fucking lying here for hours, it's hard not to think about gross ass shit. 

And every so often, just like now, your eyes are finally getting tired. It's been too long. Occasionally, you'll get a nap in during English class, or if you took a visit to the library during lunch to "work on a group project". On both occasions, you'll sometimes get even luckier and earn a detention from a passing teacher who snoops on your mini snoozefest. You sleep in detention too. It's not like the bubblegum popping senior who runs it gives a shit anyways, she just wants to be let off the hook for getting caught smoking weed in the girl's bathroom too many times after forgetting to lock the door or clog the vents. Most days, you can get at least a little sleep at school, and those days are the easiest. You're able to lie there all night and get up in the morning, no fuckin' problem. But ( _today? yesterday?_ ) you didn't get shit. After a particularly grinding analysis of The Stranger, you had to finish a paper or risk completely flunking the class. Lunch was occupied with Jade and John forcing you to referee an ongoing argument about dog breeds. And even after getting detention, Damara kicked you out after deciding she 'didn't want to see your little twerp face while she macked on her boyfriend". So as you're laying here, you feel your eyes finally slip shut. They've been so heavy all day, and honestly, if you fall asleep for even five fucking minutes, you'll be satisfied for the rest of your life. You just want to _sleep_.

Your eyes are closed. Finally. _Finally._

_**DAVE**._

The voice rattled through your head, deep and absolutely deadly, reverberating in your ears for a good seconds after it finished off with a growl. Your eyes are wide open now, fingers clutching the sheets so tight that you're shaking. It wasn't human, whatever that was. If it was human, you would find the fucker hiding out in your room and fucking go all out with your sword, _obviously_. You know the ways of the blade, but you can't figure out what the grating voice that calls to you is. It sparks in your head, and the word, your name (it's so mangled, it's like someone took your name in their mouth, chewed it up like cud, and spat it back out) sounds like it was pulled from deep inside the earth, straight out of a coffin. Because something living could _not_ have made that sound.

It woke you with a start (although you weren't anywhere near asleep, honestly) back curving off the shitty mattress, hands clutching at the cotton t shirt sheets you've had since you were five, breaths rapid, in out in out in out in out. Are you sweaty? You're probably sweaty, you're a teenager and it's the middle of the night and your body regularly enjoys fucking with you, seemingly for the hell of it. You sweat for no reason all the time, and as you rub your thumb across your palm, your theory is correct as you feel the awkward, tacky slide. Your heart is just about to beat out of your fucking chest, ringing loudly in your ears. Is this panic? Are you panicking? Your immediate instinct is to take in your surroundings, ground yourself, put up your defenses in case he comes in. 

But you don't, and he doesn't, you stare straight ahead at the secondhand wooden dresser. Photos of you and your friends on your sixteenth birthday have a glint of the moon washing over the slightly shiny Polaroid film, the only light in the room. You and Jade in a photo booth. You and John, cheek to cheek, sticking your tongue out. They're the most candid photos you have of yourself. Everything else is varying shades of dark blue and black, a swirl of navy that lets you see exactly fuckall in the dark. Your eyes dart around the rest of your room, heart still jackhammering away in your chest. The blinds are open again, plastic white slits tilted open.

You _swear_ that you closed them. 

You swear that you close them every time your eyes snap open after not even five seconds of having them shut. Maybe you're going crazy. You're probably going crazy. This has happened four fucking times _in a row_. You look away for an instant, and something, something so fucking tiny that you aren't really sure if anything changed, is just slightly different. Your blinds are open. One of the sheets is on the floor. Your closet is half open. And every time, you have no fucking way of proving you actually aren't crazy. 

You just see the light coming in his room and knows there's no point. It's weird light, kind of moonlight and kind of streetlight, a Frankenstein mix of shimmery white and fake, manmade white that is generally ugly and uncomfortable, even when it's the only light source in the whole damn room. It reminds you of the bright, sterile hospitals you've been in. The couple of times he took you there, it was for something so goddamn serious there was nothing you could cover up or go to school with. Broken, not sprained. Massive gashes,, sometimes. Not when you fractured your pelvis. Not when he split open your chin. Your wrist has been fractured since you were seven, and it still cracks and stings if you move it the wrong way. He does so much fucking shit to hurt you and when you wonder why, instead of playing the broken record of self loathing and hating him, you just try not to think about. But your arms are locked behind you as you stare at the grinning doll perched carefully atop the window sill, lifeless but still creepy as all hell.

You aren't sure how he gets in anymore. Bro swears he doesn't move Cal. Or, he claimed that some years ago, when you opened your closet door to have the puppet fall out on top of you, making that awful fucking giggling noise. He knew how much it bothered you, the way its eyes look almost real, permanently glazed over. The doll is so fucking unsettling. It feels like that thing watches your every move. You normally would toss a blanket or sweatshirt over it, but you force yourself to be brave this time. Let it sit there. It's a fucking doll. And it's the middle of the night, and if he were here he'd say you were being a pussy for not just ignoring it. 

You can feel the stare from across the room. You're holding eye contact for some reason as you lower yourself back down to the pillow. Arms sliding back down against the sheets, you rest your head gently back down on the pillow, forcing yourself to just stare straight up at the wholly appealing white ceiling right now. Breaths, just listen to them. You focus on your breaths, in and out. Your heart has finally fucking shut up, and you can actually breathe again, for the first time in the last five minutes. That's improvement, kind of. You'll just keep your eyes trained on the lovely white ceiling you have. 

There's a soft shuffling, and you tense up completely, eyes screwing shut as tightly as you can possibly get them.

Fuck.

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_.

_He's here he's here you thought you were safe you thought he was out tonight he never comes home in the middle of the night like this unless there's people with him but there aren't and you don't know what to do you don't know what to do he's here he's here he's here you're so fucking wrecked you can't deal with him tonight it's too much you're still so so sore-_

The shuffling stops.

There's a hand on your doorknob.

And then a hissing fills your ears.

It's otherworldly and _nothing_ you've heard before. The feral cats that slink around the apartment don't sound like that at all. Not like a teapot whistle, or any sort of noise you've heard before, no, it's high and it hurts your ears a little bit. It's like a dog whistle for humans. It rings in your head for a moment, before pattering. What the fuck could make a noise so _horrible_? Whatever it is, it sounds mad, it sounds _spitting_ mad, and for a moment you wonder if you made it up.

Silence.

More footsteps, quickly softening with the close of a door. 

You eyes finally flick open, and you sit up halfway with a shaky exhale, letting out the breath you had been squeezing onto far too tightly. 

Cal sits on the floor, knocked off the window sill like the ragdoll he is.Three deep, large claw marks are clearly dragged over his chest. Much too deep for anything relatively human to have done. A fucking cat couldn't have even done this, and this is a seriously pet free building anyways. Your window had been shut. Your door was shut. Your closet was shut. 

You hold your breath again.

 _Careful_ , Dave.

Even with an unknown cold breeze running over your shoulders and the feeling of something tugging on your sheets, you turn over and bury your face in the pillow. You've lost all hope, now. You'll be up until the sun rises again. Sleep is harder to come by now than it ever has been. Why won't your brain just fucking leave you alone? You just 

can't

_sleep_.

* * *

The next morning, Cal isn't even in your room. You rolled over at some point, and he's gone. There is no sign of shredded fabric, and absolutely no trace of whatever scratched the creepy ass thing up. You even duck under your bed for a brief, paranoid check. Apparently, Bro hasn't seen him either. You only know because the damn doll isn't propped up in some unsettling place in the apartment, and Bro is drinking at breakfast. You know that because the kitchen smells of brandy and coffee. Fucking gross. That just means he's sulky and pissed, but not enough to take it out on you yet. You'll hide at school for now, just to avoid him. Claim you stuck around for John's cheesy film club, which is really just a bunch of freshman, one weird transfer student, and him, all watching bad action movies on a projector.

Even though school still sucks ass.

It always does. When you get the opportunity to sleep during class, that's just about the best part. It's a shitty Houston public school, you don't really know what you're expecting, but it's so much better than being back at the apartment that you really can't hate it too much. It's really not the school you hate, either; the curriculum is boring and easy, but the some of the teachers like you. Or, well, they used to.The gym teacher favored you since your first day. Your old biology teacher was friendly enough, and every English teacher you've ever had has always thought your essays were funny, if not completely ridiculous. Creativity points, hell yeah. But the real kicker is the actual assholes your age. After an unnamed and further unmentioned incident involving an older boy and a play dress rehearsal, you're even more of an outcast than you already were. Most of those same teachers don't even bother shooting you pitiful glances anymore, they know there isn't shit that can be done about Dave Strider. A fucking mess, ripped at the seams, stuffing and guts all over the place. 

But you do have your friends. It always feels like they're slightly... temporary. Like something will happen, and they won't hesitate to cut you out the picture like kindergarten arts n crafts. But they're all you have, and you fucking love them. You and Jade spend your lunch period scrubbing at red lipstick smeared in a slur over the surface of your locker. Not the best way to bond, but it's an experience, and you've gotten worse shit. You're tough, you can handle it. Ever since an incident involving you, a member of the soccer team, and a video, the whole school took to making you the new gay punching bag. It's really petered out, actually. There's less jeering and punching and more general ignorance. It's kind of great, but this shit still does happen. You're not the only one, anyways. Soap and paper towels from the school bathroom didn't work on the lipstick, and so Jade had to ask some girl she knew for something to get the red smudged lettering off your locker door. Wiping it off really doesn't change anything, not at all, but it makes you feel just a bit better. Because there's someone here who cares. Someone who wants to help you.

"This is the third time, can't they at least be original?" She muttered as she rubbed at the F with the side of her hand and a paper towel. This shit always got more on her nerves than your own, which was both sweet and weird. But you knew Jade. She was unbelievably compassionate, so of course she'd feel that way. You're a little envious of it on occasion, but then remember how weak you feel when you care, anyways. 

"Douchebags aren't exactly known for their creativity, Harley."

She laughed softly, and you elbow her after smudging the two G's together. Your locker now has a mess of red smears. "You don't have to help me, y'know. I can deal with this shit myself. It's not like it gets to me."

"No way, I'm your friend, Dave. And I'd like to see you try to get this lipstick off yourself." Jade gave you one of her I'm-trying-to-help-you-dummy knowing smiles. 

You snorted, nodding absently. Yeah, she was right. You didn't have access to the mi-cellar cleaning whatever that was kind of getting this shit off. It's at times like this when you hardcore appreciate your friends. John is meeting with a teacher right now, so he really couldn't get his ass over here, but he was there when you needed to ice your eye in the bathroom one morning when Jade was busy. And you were there when people called Jade a bucktoothed plant weirdo, and when they made fun of John's loathing for cake. You all took turns. It was simply a part of being who you all were- initially, you three just kind of sat together after not knowing who else to sit with, freshman year. It was awkward, mostly. But it quickly became a good dynamic, with you making shitty jokes and John punching your arm and Jade doing her little snort laugh. It worked. None of you had ever really been popular, but the hierarchy here wasn't concrete enough for it to actually matter to any of you. Each of you got your fair share of teasing, but it was tolerable.

For the most part.

"Man, whoever put this on _really_ wasted their expensive ass Chanel lipstick on some loser's locker. This shit really ain't coming off, and it's honestly a damn shame to waste such high quality lipstick." That made Jade laugh, at the least, and lightened the mood a little more.

"It was probably one of those girls who have those massive bruises all over their shoulders and boobs." While Harley may have been sweet as all hell, she wasn't as innocent as you remember. It was probably your fault. Whoops. You raised your eyebrows, recalling how one of those Peixes girls showed up last year looking like she had played some serious paintball. You laughed back at the memory, knocking gently against her, and she huffs at you. " _Whaaaat_? I'm right!"

"It was Ampora," A gruff, raspy voice mutters from behind you.

You turn around, and there stands who might possibly be the shortest fucking kid in the whole school. You recognize him, kind of; lots of wild, black curls, thick eyebrows and tan skin, looking at you as though you just threw up on his shoes all the time. Kermit Vantass or something equally weird. He's clutching something in white packaging very tightly between some long ass nails. And he's wearing a thick ass wool sweater with a 69 on it, for some reason. How isn't this guy super fucking hot? 

_Cough_. Well, maybe hot isn't the best goddamn word for it, but certainly... Something. There's a little crease between two thick, dark eyebrows, his nose is really scrunched up, and his cheeks are kind of round and delicate. 

_Maybe it's... cute._

You push the thought as far away as you can and as fast as you can, cramming it down in your brain like you stuff assorted objects into the back of your closet. Not cute. You're not getting into this shit now. There's literally lipstick on your locker with a now very smudged gay slur all over it that makes it clear what you should probably get a handle on.

"Really? How do you know?" Jade raises her eyebrows, easily bringing you out of your probably creepy staring. He couldn't see behind your shades anyways, so for all he knows, you're intensely focused on the very sexy wall behind him. You totally wanna get it on with that beige drywall.

"Kanaya said to give this to you." He ignores her question completely, of fucking course. Kanaya. That must have been the girl that gave Jade the makeup remover shit in the first place. The kid shoves the bag of wipes in your hands silently as you stand there, a little dumbfounded. His nose is still all scrunched up as he looks back up at you, and although he seems huffy and possibly self assured, you watch his hands shake momentarily before he fiddles with the seam of his sweater. Really, isn't he hot in that thing? It's November, sure, but it's still fucking Texas. The temperature hasn't even dropped below sixty degrees yet. 

"Oh. Uh." You cleared your throat, nodding slightly in appreciation. "Thanks."

He stands there for a moment more, eyes seemingly searching your face and then looking between you and Jade briefly. His brows furrowing into a somehow deeper glare, before he fucking dashes off, a little streak of black and grey. Gone. If you weren't so damn confused about the weird ass interaction you had with this kid, you'd wonder if his speed and stealth rivalled your own. It might, honestly, because there was something strange about the way he scurried off, how he just seemed to blend into the shadows. You would envy it, if you actually cared. 

"Who the fuck even _was_ that?" You murmured out loud, staring straight ahead for another moment and running a hand through your hair.

"Oh, that's just Karkat." Jade had already turned back around and resumed smearing the lipstick around. You followed suit, turning back and now opening the bag of wipes open with a weird, plasticky rip. Jade pulled one out, and the red came off a lot easier with the wipes. "He's in English with us, and, mhmm..." She paused for a moment in thought, scrubbing at the red. "Oh, he has visual art with you, I thought."

"I dunno. I can't really remember seeing him around. Is he new or some shit?" 

"Yeah! He moved from... somewhere, I don't really know. I'm surprised you can't remember him, he's kind of a loud guy." Jade chuckles and you raise your eyebrows. Weird. You really can't recall seeing this guy around, but he's evidently hard to see in the first place. Short and well concealed. You're actually surprised you two aren't buddy buddy, considering he seems like enough of an outcast to hang out with your ragtag gang of apparent freaks. The girl, Kanaya- you're pretty sure you can picture her face. Tall and pretty. Were they related or something? Maybe not, but she, too, looked like she hadn't seen the sun once in her whole life, and hadn't slept a day of it, either. They both had that weird, intense gaze, and ridiculously long fingernails. Goddamn talons. 

"He's been absent a lot anyways. Something about a weird allergy? Photo-something. I've only talked to him a couple of times, he gets kinda defensive." Jade just shrugged as she continued. You aren't exactly sure what to make of this guy, honestly. He seems like a bit of a dick, but you're intrigued. Maybe you can catch him after school or in art. Either would be preferred to going home. To take your mind off it, you reach up and draw a dick in the swirls of thick red lipstick.

"It's a masterpiece now." Jade rolls her eyes, and the two of you end up smearing red over each other's foreheads before actually getting all of the lipstick off.

* * *

You nearly manage to scrape up a detention after throwing a dodgeball right at the back of the gym teacher, but are only met with a grin and a toss back that knocks the wind out of you. You fucking tried, that's for sure. When the bell rings, you cringe, pulling out your phone and glancing at the time. How many minutes can you waste in the bathroom? Or saying you got caught up with John talking about something trivial? But you get a text not even two minutes later.

"get your scrawny ass over here. no excuses".

You sigh, rub your eyes, and start the trek home. The walk is always the same. Around the corner, shoulders semi drooping in shame, then straight for twelve blocks, turn again. Past the ancient 7-11 and singular run down Starbucks. The Texas sun beats down on your back and you pretend like everything is just fine so there isn't too many questions asked by anyone. Not like anybody cares in the first place. Everyone around here has their own shit to deal with, you just don't want to get hollered at by some assholes in a convertible that know you from school as you push open the familiar barred door anyways.

* * *

"C'mon. Doc Scratch. My man. My dude, my homie. My best dealer. You seriously can't be telling me that you're outta the good shit."

You drummed your fingers on the cold, fake granite counter of the 24 hour pharmacy. Your mission to find something to help you finally shut your eyes at night for good isn't panning out how you expected just yet, and you're starting to get nervous, leg jiggling, fingers tapping restlessly. The bright fluorescent lights in here made the already bleached white beanie on your favorite pharmacist (and first pot dealer) look unusually white. His brows furrowed, and he barely even looked up from scribbling out unreadable prescriptions. He just shook his head, fiddling with the obnoxious green tie he wore. His name tag was slipping slightly to the left, looking less like "Doctor Scratch" and more like "Doctor Seetcher".

"My apologies, Dave. No new shipments until next month. We sold out fast. The high tension since the beginning of economic decline and large influx of students has only increased demand past manageable levels. There's a lot of people not sleeping." Scratch sighed, and you could visibly see the mild sorrow and pity he looked at you with. You open your mouth to protest, but he held up a single gloved hand before you could say a word. "And you don't even have a forged guardian signature. I can't give you anything if you don't even have a forged one." Scratch shook his head, sliding the debit card back across the countertop back between your fingers.

"Come on," You said softly, doing your damn best to keep your voice from wavering too much. He finally looks up from the slips of paper he's signing, pen slumping slightly in his hand. Scratch sighed, full of exhaustion- you wonder for a moment if you're actually being that much of a pushy kid, but you remember his not-so-brief stories about the woes of medical school. He's just tired. He shook his head and looked back down. 

"I can't help you, Dave." 

"Fuck," You muttered, shutting your eyes tight and pushing up your shades to rub at them. The sound of Scratch's pen against the paper is all you hear as you shove the card back into your pocket, and shuffle out of the back section. There's no one here still, except for some short guy digging through the first aid section you're intimately familiar with on his tip toes. You probably have to head back there soon, as you're running low on rubbing alcohol and the inconspicuous waterproof bandaids that are always on sale. You try to push that thought away, and the silent worry that you'll never sleep again, that school won't get better, that Bro won't get better.

The bell chimes cheerfully as you walk out the door, hands stuffed in your pocket, and it feels like you're being watched. You don't care, bitterly kicking at pebbles as you finally get closer to home. Cheers to another sleepless night.

You barely even recognize the various crumbling brick apartment buildings as you trudge down the street, and it's not as though anyone inside would recognize you, either. You've walked down this same street every day for years, and not a single person knows who you are anyways. It really doesn't matter, it's not like knowing them would do jack shit for your current situation, and it's not like you wanna know them, anyways. While on a bender over not knowing any of the assholes that occupy the other apartments on the street, your bag drags behind you and a dog barks somewhere and you aren't paying attention again.

Your foot catches in an errant uneven part of the sidewalk, and you gracefully faceplant, having a brief make out session with some sexy concrete, and just lay on the ground like a fresh corpse for a hot second. Nice. After a good moment of basking in your own stupidity, you uncurled and pressed your callused hands into the harsh concrete, elbows buckling just slightly as you pushed yourself up onto your knees, sun in your eyes as your shades sit a few feet away. The side of your hand is a little scraped up and there's a new rip in your already tattered jeans, but frankly, it's nothing. Once you finally collect yourself, you reach for them and continue walking, down the street of people you don't know, until you reach the one building you do. Brick. Falling apart. Shitty landlord. Shittier tenants, including yourself.

When you tug your key out of the lock after making it up to the apartment, it's silent.

You hate it.

As you turn around, your fingers tighten on the strap of your backpack, toes curling in your shoes. Half passed out on the futon, two empty beer bottles placed on the coffee table, Xbox controller still in his hands, the Tony Hawk background still flashing on the TV— there he fucking is. It's an average Wednesday night, Bro completely fucking asleep (you hope) in an alcoholic stupor, leaving you to ignore your homework and fuck around with your computer in peace. Absolutely fucking perfect, no sarcasm needed. You love the days where he isn't even conscious and you're on your own. There's usually food somewhere stashed in the kitchen, and he doesn't stare over your shoulder or through the doorway as you absently try to cook some fucking mac n cheese when you get hungry. These are the best days, besides possibly when he leaves the apartment completely for days on end. And if you're quiet-

"Not so fast, Blondie."

_Fuck_.

The "affectionate" nickname was given to you, even though the both of you shared the same blond curls from your father. But it wasn't the worst of all the nicknames. You could tell how much danger you were in depending on which one he chose. Going from best to worst, it went nerd, shortstack, asshole, Blondie, fucker, little shit, brat, Dave, Davey, and if he didn't even refer to you by name- that meant _fucking run._ But today would be okay, most likely. You had a good chance. A couple of beers just meant drowsy and bored, probably. He'll just get a little snappy with you, at the worst. Of course, he won't actually snap at you, or even show that he's mad. Nah, he'll just give you these intense stares. Backhandedly mention something he wants to pick on you for. It happens all the time now.

"'Sup." You mumble, still creeping towards your bedroom as sneakily and stealthily as you could, turning on your phone just to stare at it. You have a lock now, but he can break the hinges. You've seen him do it. You've watched him splinter the wood into little pieces after you had a fight, the door nearly snapped in half with strips of wood peeling right off. You slept on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom for three weeks after that fight. You were pretty sure the indent in your cheek last for a week, and your back still isn't the same as it was before.

"Get y're ass over here."

Swallowing the anxiety crawling up your throat, you turn on your heel, stepping around the couch and looking to him. He's just laying there, and if he hadn't been speaking, you would have thought he was asleep or dead. Either was preferable for whatever nerve wracking bullshit was coming. 

"Gimme."

You paused, brow furrowing slightly as he stuck his arm out. Oh. Shades? You slipped them off your face, folding the sides in neatly and placing them in his hand, much larger than yours. His fingers closed around them, and his arm receded, much too slow for comfort. He didn't often take them away, he didn't like seeing your face in the first place. He was the one who insisted you wear them. All the cool guys do. Cool guys don't wear their heart on their sleeve. Cool guys don't let people see their eyes, especially if they're weird. 

After a moment of silence, you dare to speak.

"... Can I have them ba-"

"How was your little adventure," He interrupted smoothly, completely toneless. You've tried for years to achieve the level of carelessness and stoicism he has, but you just can't do it. Even after multiple comments from your friends on bad days that you seem "robotic", you won't ever be enough to even begin to compare to the facade he pulls off, seemingly with ease. You sometimes wonder if he actually is able to feel emotion. You don't like thinking about it. 

And he somehow found out about your detour. Fuck.

"What adventure?"

"Don't fucking try that with me, _fucker_." His voice cut through your weak retort easily. You use all your might to keep your voice completely bored. You don't care that he knows. You don't care you're late. You were doing shit. Who's someone he likes? Scratch that, he doesn't know any of your friends. He seems to simultaneously think you're a loser if you don't have any, and call you lame if you actually do. There's no winning, only brief and narrow escape. You scramble to think of an excuse.

"Me and Jade were making fun of the vapes."

Another thirty seconds of silence— 

safety. 

You had escaped this time. Thank fuck for irony. But tonight you might get unlucky if he drinks too much again. You push that back, slinking off to your room, coughing to cover the click of your lock. Much better. Safer. He can get through this, but it lets him know you're on your guard tonight. When you come home exhausted and toss your backpack aside, not even bothering to close or lock it, that's when he gets you. Those are the worst nights. 

For now, you're safe in the enclosed space of your room. 

First things first, your current injuries. You strip off your shirt and jeans, carefully setting them in the ever growing pile of dirty laundry. You'll have to go down the block and get it washed this week, probably. Which also means needing to get your hands on some quarters. Whatever, that's not priority one. You set aside a decent smelling tank top and a pair of sweats for the time being, heading to the bathroom to tend to your various miniscule injuries. It's really nothing right now, you're damn lucky winter is coming up anyways. More of an excuse to cover up. 

You stand in front of the mirror for a second, not even doing anything. Lifting your arms, seeing where you're currently bruised.Two, matching on your hips. One on your shoulder. A small, light one on your chin that you've been reluctant to use makeup to cover, lest Bro notices. They're all fading, but it still makes you feel queasy to see the places where he managed to get you like this. You don't actually throw up, and you're glad. You'll get hungry too fast. The places you cut up after falling today are already healing over, not even bleeding. You've gotten nasty enough infections to know it's best to clean them anyways. Reaching up to pull open the medicine cabinet, you remember you're out of both peroxide and rubbing alcohol. Your theory stands correct, and you frown, shutting the cabinet and settle for running the cuts under hot water. That's okay for now.

Shuffling back to your room, you flick off the bathroom light and tug on your clothes. You immediately feel more comfortable, and even more so when you crawl into bed and grab your phone and backpack. Digging through it, you take the extra food you set aside and start to eat what your makeshift dinner is to be. You can eat if Bro goes to his workroom, but that might not be till later, so you won't risk it. Honestly, he probably won't bother you, but you really don't like risking anything nowadays. 

The night drags on. 

You don't notice how late it is until your eyes are actually slipping shut with your phone draped over your face. The screen is dimming, your phone going to sleep as your eyelids flutter. How many days have you been up past two, exactly? You aren't really sure anymore, and with sleep hazily guiding you away under the warmth of your blankets and cheerful goodnight messages from John and Jade, you don't see the point in staying awake. Maybe you didn't really need meds. It was just a couple of bad days. You wonder how long this bout of weak sleep will last anyways.

You don't even dream this time, you're pretty sure.

It's like you're still just... lying there.

Oh, you're not actually asleep. That's why.

Eyes staring up into the blank white ceiling. Lips slightly parted. Shades set aside, lights out, phone resting directly next to your chest after sliding out of your hand. It's like your asleep, but not really. You barely even have the energy to roll over, hand slipping off the bed as your eyes shut.

You aren't sure if you were already dreaming or not, but you could almost swear that something intangible but _warm_ brushed across your fingers before you drifted off.


	2. why don't you run from me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first of all wow!! thank you all for the lovely comments and support on that first chapter. 
> 
> ive finally got a bit of a handle on the whole shadow thing. karkat can just blend into the shadows. he kind of loses his physical form and drifts between planes. think of the symbiotes from venom, but less gooey, softer and more shadowy. 
> 
> anyways! I'll try to update this once a week or so, maybe a little more or less, who knows. thank you for all the support! (also rip my first attempt at formatting pesterlogs)

During your first night of sleep in nearly four days, you find yourself dreaming again.

It's been a long time since you actually dreamed. You're easily able to make the distinction between dreaming and.. the other thing that happens normally. You're not exactly sure what it's called, but it's fucking horrible. It's not like dreaming at all. You're stuck in place, and you can somehow feel the cool air outside of your head, but your vision is fucked over, and so are most of your other senses. You hear things, strange noises that make you want to rip your ears out— weird whistling, screeches and howls, your brother's breath, hot and loud next to your ear. You see things, things you don't even want to talk about. It's all flashes of purple and black, darkness threatening to pull you under every time. It's like your brain and body are in a tug of war, constantly pulling you back and forth between the land of the wakeful and your own fucked up brain.

When you dream, you can force yourself to wake up, you've done it before when things got unbearable and you needed to get out of your own head. Dreams are always lighter. The illusion is more obvious, you can always tell when you're dreaming, but you often don't do anything about it. You let the dream pull you along until you woke up. Back when you dreamed (and slept) regularly, you often dreamed of a purple city. Not a city, maybe, but a kingdom, a purple kingdom full of citizens that barely interacted with you. You'd normally fly around, explore the same places over and over again, but it wasn't bad at all. You're pretty sure you gave the purple kingdom a name, who knows how long ago now, something weird as shit probably. You don't remember too much of it, honestly. Just purple. But tonight, you don't dream of a purple city.

You find yourself somewhere... Dark.

It's dark. Very, _very_ dark. You don't think you've ever been somewhere so dark before? Your hand instinctively reaches up to your face for your shades. Nope, no shades. Your fingers brush over your face, and over your closed eyelids. Well, that's probably why you can't fucking see shit. Then you realize you can't open your eyes anyways. You try, even trying rubbing at them and pushing at your eyelids. It's like they're glued shut. Okay that's weird, but you don't exactly feel scared.The darkness isn't exactly _bad_. A little chilly. With one sense crossed off the list, you reach over your left arm, running your fingers over... fabric, yup. It goes all the way up to your shoulders, and around to where there's something on your back. Maybe a hood? No, too long. You're wearing pants, too. At least your fucking brain has the decency to dress you fully. 

You can't walk, or move your legs at all. It's not a problem, really, since you can't even fucking—

Your eyes flick open, and you're overwhelmed with color and light. It takes a moment to adjust; you blink and rub at your eyes. You're somewhere bright yet dark. It's a cavernous area, jagged rock jetting up from the floor and down from the ceiling. Stalactites and stalagmites— you don't remember the difference anymore. There's lava, lots of lava, orange and yellow and hot, probably some of the weirdest shit you've ever seen in your whole life, honestly. It's not all lava, thankfully, there's various platforms and rocky areas you can probably jump on, so that you're not contained to this little area. The lava is warm, you can feel the heat and see the air wavering in front of you, but it seems almost like video game lava. It glows and seems to churn, but nothing shoots out, and you could probably touch it. You don't anyways. (Duh.)

There's a flash behind you, and instantly, you prepare to strife. You don't have a sword. Or any kind of useful weapon, really, just your fists and a shitton of uncontrollable lava. Not exactly an ideal fighting space. But you whirl around anyways, knees bent and shoulders low, prepared as all hell to throw a punch if you have to. There's no one there, and for a second, you wonder if you're going crazy. But then you see it again, a dark blur in the corner of your eye, and you turn back on your heel as fast as you possibly can. There's something there, that's for sure. It's vaguely human shaped, but the image flickers and the edges seem to blur right into the air. It's just straight black, resembling a human shaped cloud of black fog, somewhere in between opaque and translucent. It's completely still. The both of you don't move.

"... hi."

It's probably not the right move, but a greeting is the best way to judge if this thing is friendly or not. It doesn't move, doesn't say anything. It probably didn't even understand you. You note that it seems to be significantly smaller than you, and definitely human shaped, but with no discernable features. Like a 2D image, almost. It's bizarre, but not threatening just yet. Finally, it moves. Reaching a hand out, pulling it back. You're no Jane Goodall, but you take the hint and take a cautious step forwards. It beckons again. You take another step. As you approach the black shadow, an uncomfortable feeling builds in your upper stomach, turning and thrashing. Your nervousness builds as it nods, and you take one more step, one arm by your side slowly reaching up, intending to grasp at it. Is this thing even physical? You aren't sure. 

It's growing _taller_. You can tell because it was once at your chin, but now the two of you are almost eye level. It doesn't ask you to get any closer, but it's taller than you now, and wider, too. It doesn't seem much less shadowy, but you sneak a quick glance down to its arms, which seem to be growing larger and gaining claws. Not cat claws, not even lion claws. The kind of claws a _dragon_ has. The nervous feeling is still pooling in your stomach, stacking up and up, threatening to spill out of your throat. 

It's fully leaning over you now, your back just barely arching as it takes a small step forwards. It doesn't move for a second, and then it leans down a bit. You hold your breath, heart now hammering in your gut, stomach twisting unexplainably. You've never felt so nervous in your life. It's about a foot from your face. The black begins to shift and dissolve, parting way for a mouth, seemingly. The black turns into pink, and then white, a wide cheshire cat grin spreading over the shadow's face. The teeth don't line up, it's a whole jagged mess of massive fangs the size of your head. The both of you are completely still.

It's mouth opens. _Blood_ spills out between the teeth and so does the same gravelly voice you heard the night before as it snaps down right in front of you, your breath hitching and your heart going absolutely fucking _ballistic_ because _fuck_ it's _right_ there it's going to fucking _kill_ _you_ —

**_COME HERE_**.

Your eyes flick open, and you're laying in bed in your room with something dark and shadowy barely two inches from your face. You're panting hard, breathing rocky and unsteady, and you're pretty sure your heart actually stopped as you stare that thing right in the face with what you can guess is an absolutely terrified expression on your face. It quickly darts away, seemingly slipping back into the shadows underneath your bed. It takes a full three minutes for your breathing to return to normal and for you to stop hearing your heartbeat ringing through your ears. Once you finally regain basic motor control again, you roll over again. You remember teeth, you remember your fingers brushing against something sort of warm and not-there like a puff of steam. You let your fingers trickle down the bed, dangling over the edge of the bed tentatively, but nothing brushes past them again. You almost miss the reassuring feeling.

You can't get back to sleep that night. You watch the sun rise through your window for the fifth time in a row, and you can't stop thinking about _teeth_.

* * *

The morning is uninterrupted by Bro's presence. You're not sure where he went, but you don't care. You eat your Cap'n Crunch silently anyways before heading to school.

This morning is better than the last. John and Jade both greet you at the door with those matching bucktooth grins you quickly grew fond of. At first, they seemed freaky and not at all genuine. You're like a fucking scared animal, freaked the fuck out by some predators baring their teeth until they take you in as one of their own. Like those cutesy ass videos of the tigers that take in wolf cubs and raise them like big cats. Cute shit. No lipstick on your locker. Not as many disdainful glares and muttering. It's still there, but every day it seems to fade more into background noise. Jade was right; people do get over themselves after a while. The three of you walk to class, one of them on each side of you, your protectors. If only Bro knew you had two dorky ass weirdos guarding you at school. He'd flip his shit. But you love it, you love the way they laugh at your shitty jokes and John makes fun of your messy hair, tugging at it and earning a nudge from you. It's always lighthearted and fun between the three of you.

Before you even know it, the bells drills way too fucking loud in your ear, and you've gotta eat. There used to be a feeling of dread that came with lunch; but you've got some money now, and the cafeteria serves lunch, so the existence of hungry "I had a big breakfast" Dave Strider is no more.

"We're finally upperclassmen, we can actually go off campus for lunch!" John raised his eyebrows at you and Jade as the three of you stood outside the Advanced Bio classroom. "There's food around this place, let's go get pizza or something!"

"Blegh, my grandpa says that stuff clogs up your intestines," Jade wrinkled her nose. "Can't we eat something healthy for once? What would your dad say, John?" She grinned.

With a snort and a small shake of his head, John nudges you. "Wanna go out, Dave? They have a Subway somewhere around here. Jade, you can eat your vegetables and some bread."

Jade socks him in the arm, and you laugh as he rubs it. Jade is way stronger than she looks— you've watched that chick shoot a fucking pigeon with a rifle. She's totally badass, but also refuses to eat eggs. "I dunno, man. I didn't bring enough cash for Subway. Let's just go chill on the bleachers or sit in the courtyard, I'm really not hungry."

"Courtyard sounds good. Oh, I have some people you guys need to meet! This whole group of kids transferred from that tiny 7th through 10th school down on the West Side. I talked to a couple of them, and they haven't really broken out of their group yet, so I thought it'd be cool for you guys to talk to them." John offered cheerily. 

"Oh, all the students from Alternia Junior High?" 

"Yeah!"

"Isn't that school super exclusive or some shit?" You wonder aloud, remembering the head of your middle school mention it. They had a special application process, and before that even started, you had to interview.

"I don't think so. Most of them are in the same classes we have." John shrugged. You decidedly push the question aside until later.

"Dude, if you introduce us to a bunch of genius kids, I won't be able to keep up."

"Not to worry, Dave. Some of them are surely braindead enough that you'll understand what they're saying."

"Guys!" Jade protested, tugging on John's arm and jerking her head outside. "Instead of calling Dave stupid again, how about we actually go _talk_ to them?" You snickered, John grinning and shaking Jade off as he walked out to the courtyard, sliding into a seat around the long tables across from a girl with blue-streaked hair. Jade immediately wanders off to go squeal up a storm with who knows who. You follow John somewhat meekly instead, but swallow your anxiety and keep the coolest cool dude face you can, sitting down beside him. He and the blue haired girl chat for a minute before he looks back to you.

"Vriska, this is Dave! He's pretty awesome, if not a total ass sometimes." John grins, pushing up his glasses. You roll your eyes, leaning over table to nod casually to Vriska.

"Heeeeeeeey, Dave." She raises her eyebrows above her glasses— one of the lenses seems to be covered for some reason. "Are you nearly as dorky as John?"

"Never. If I know Egbert at all, it's that he has hitched himself up every fuckin' rung of the dorkiness ladder and beyond. He's floating beyond the dorksphere. Dude is flying away, he's so dorky."

"Fuck off, Dave."

"I like you." Vriska grins widely. "What's a girl gotta do to get some decent friends and fiends around here that are actually cool? Everyone I know is a _massive_ loser!" 

"I'm hurt you don't think I'm the coolest girl on the block!" Some other girl wearing red sunglasses (ten plus cool points in your book) drapes herself over Vriska's shoulders. "It smells like lame over here."

Vriska's grin only widens, elbowing the other girl. "Be friendly, Terezi. Some actually cool people have arrived. Finally, we're free of all these loooooooosers." She rolls her eyes, absently playing with the fabric of Terezi's shirt.

"I am Terezi, and you both smell dumb," She declared, pushing up her little square sunglasses. You can't help but wonder if she's actually blind, but people always ask the same thing about you, and it's annoying as fuck. You'll find out. 

"Nice shades," You offered absently. "I can always appreciate a fellow cool kid."

"Thanks, fellow coolkid! I stole them from my sister. Redglare strikes again! But the law will never catch me, for I am the law." Her grin is even more wicked than Vriska's, and you find yourself nearly laughing at the two of them. John was right, these kids are cool. There's a bunch more you haven't even met yet, you realize as you glance around the tables at the kids chatting. A pair talking quietly catches your eye. Karkat and a girl, who seem to be staring at you. They were talking a moment ago, but they've gone silent in favor of just looking at you.

He's been looking at you this whole time, it seems. Just kind of... _Staring_. You'd find it creepy, but you admit to doing it behind the safety of your shades all the time. You forget how creepy it is sometimes, you've been doing this shit for years. Karkat looks so out of place, and so does the tall, pretty girl sitting next to him. They both look insanely pale and tired. Worse than yesterday, you note. The girl next to him (Kanaya, maybe...?) seems to be asking a question, which he answers without even looking away from you. Alright, you'll bite. You stand up, letting the three in front of you continue their bickering and laughter, wandering over to sit across from Karkat and the other girl with a little nod.

" 'Sup." You probably should give an actual introduction, but you just look between the two of them. Karkat regards you with a steady glare, and the girl next to him looks between the two of you absently. You almost feel bad; she looks so nervous she might combust. Maybe not nervous, just concerned. But still. 

"Uhm. Hello. I am Kanaya." The girl sitting nervously next to him breaks the silence after a moment, raising her eyebrows at Karkat in a seemingly impatient gesture. She reaches over and rests a hand on his back. Woah, okay. Are these two shacked up or something? Not that it matters. You don't care, it's not any of your fucking business anyways...

Woah, cool your jets, Strider. What the fuck.

"Oh— Kanaya. You know Jade, right?" You ask without missing a beat, letting your eyes stay trained on Kanaya instead.

"Yes I do. We both were in theatre together last year." She pauses, seemingly contemplating her next few words. "I trust the wipes I distributed worked out well for you?" Kanaya's words are slow, and she regards you with a gentle expression. You'd think she was being sarcastic, but she clearly isn't. Huh.

"Oh uh, yeah." You recall yesterday, Karkat shoving them into your hands and dashing off. Kanaya. That's where you heard the name. "Thanks for that," You say quickly, pushing your shades up your nose reflexively. Kanaya gets the hint and nods. 

"What's up with the fucking _shades_?" Karkat spits not even a second later. You glance to him. You honestly thought he'd stay quiet the entire conversation, but you remember Jade saying he was loud, so maybe he'll live up to the legend. 

"Karkat," Kanaya quietly chastised, but he just wrinkled his nose (aw, cute— wait, no, shut up) and continued glaring at you without even acknowledging her.

"John gave them to me. Collector shit, dude. Ben Stiller wore these babies." You tap the frames proudly. Without a doubt one of the greatest gifts you have ever received in your entire life, these things are frankly your pride and joy. Karkat just snorts, clearly unimpressed. 

"So you're a douche, then." You can almost hear Kanaya beginning an indignant protest, but you're actually wholly enjoying this. You haven't gotten banter like this in a while. Karkat's funny as fuck, even if he is being serious.

"Call me whatever you like, but it doesn't change how cool I am, man."

"You're clearly some kind of asshole who gets off to people fawning over his pseudocool facade which is just a cover for the fact that you're a little _bitch_ inside," Karkat growls all in one breath. His face is flushed (it's a weird, pallid reddish grey) and he's practically panting. He almost seems to be flickering at the edges, but you know it's probably just smudges on your shades.

You just start howling with laughter, leaning over the table and gripping it. He's kind of right, but it's honestly just funny. The way he tried to say it so menacingly with his raspy barely-there voice was the funniest shit. You can hear Kanaya muttering to him, but you can't understand any of it. When you finally can breathe again, you look back up, and she has a firm hand on Karkat's shoulder. He's sitting there, arms crossed over his chest, nose half buried in the long collar of his sweater.

"You're a massive fucking assmonkey, Dave Strider," He mutters.

"So're you, dude, but I like it." You flash a grin, but it falters after a moment, and your brows furrow. You don't remember telling him your name. "Wait, how'd you know my name?"

Karkat falters himself. It's brief and you nearly miss it, with how quickly he pulls himself back together and throws back a response. "I'm in your class, _dicksucker_ , we've practically been elbow to elbow-"

Kanaya calls his name sharply all of a sudden, glaring with an intensity you didn't think was possible of someone so pacified and put together, but his words register after a second and you feel your stomach churning and twisting. It feels like he stepped on your foot, hard, and you glance away, rubbing at your neck before getting up and nodding a couple times in acknowledgement. You didn't really expect that, to honest— after Kanaya gave you those wipes, you thought maybe these kids would be cool with everything, or at least wouldn't have heard the rumors. But apparently not. You're not going to bother with it. Just move on. "Cool, cool. I get it, man. See you in class, I guess."

You hear the two of them bickering in hushed voices as you walk away, shoving your hands in your pockets and heading for the doors. You think you've had enough of these kids for now. Enough of people in general for now, actually, so you're going to slide on out real smooth and make a mad dash for somewhere quiet. 

"Where you going, coolkid? Leaving so soon?" Terezi crows from behind you. Turning halfway around, you flash the best grin you can manage right now and shake your head.

"Gonna hit up the vape room. I mean bathroom." 

She cackles in response before turning back to her posse. No one else pays you a second glance, but you're pretty sure Karkat and Kanaya are looking this way. Whatever. Nice one, man. You continue walking off into the halls, not exactly sure where to go. The bathrooms really are just a vape free-for-all zone now, so they're not the best bet, unless you want to bring back the asthma you supposedly grew out of. You can just chill and wander a bit for now.

It feels like an act of god when your phone buzzes in your pocket just as you hear the dreaded double doors out to the courtyard open. You duck beside a set of lockers, leaning against the blue surface and pulling out your phone.

tentacleTherapist [TT] has begun pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 12:14!

TT: Hello, Dave.

TT: I know you hold a firm opinion that we don't need to keep in communication, but I thought it important to let you know that things are changing.

TT: Of course, things are changing all the time. The universe doesn't rest for us.

TT: But anyways. Things are changing, specifically regarding our relationship.

TG: so you finally accepted my marriage proposal

TT: And here I was thinking I would get to go off on a philosophical tangent without interruption.

TT: But no, of course not. Instead you must jump in, and trigger my Freudian slip sensors all over again.

TT: Watch your tongue, Dave.

TG: ill get security cameras for my mouth

TT: Good.

TT: Now that we've danced around the subject enough, I'm going to delicately tango us around this tangent.

TT: I'm switching schools.

TT: Roxy is taking me into her care, as she has graduated from college and is now pursuing coding. She is living in the city again, and I will be moving in with her and transferring to Skaia High.

TT: That is all.

tentacleTherapist [TT] is now an idle chum!

TG: fuck wait what

TG: rose

turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum!

You rest your head against the metal of the lockers and pretend like your weird sister and her weirder sister aren't inserting themselves back into your life, and probably going to fuck things up again. Your phone slides down onto the concrete, and you sigh audibly. _Fuck_.

"Dave?"

Are you fucking _kidding_? What _now_? After having a massive fucking nuclear bomb dropped on your unknowing head, someone is here to drop _another_ one? Russia has finally cracked and teamed up with China, US of Dave is under attack and you are being bombed into oblivion, better start up the draft again because we're going to war, y'all, get out the Uzis and AK47s because we're going to war-

"Excuse me..? I'm sorry, but what are you talking about?"

You look up to realize Kanaya is standing beside the lockers, looking very puzzled, and that you've said all of that aloud.

 _Fuck_.

"Nothin'," You murmur, shaking your head and running a hand through your hair. Your phone sits beside you dejectedly. 

"Well. Alright." She brushes off her skirt and looks down at you in that same way as before- almost concerned for you. "I would just like to say that Karkat did not mean what he said. He enjoys coming up with- creative insults. And he means no personal harm to you."

You just shrugged, rubbing at your neck with a sigh, brushing her off. "It's— it's fine, I don't care. Shit happens, I've heard worse and he's just—"

"I don't think you _understood_ me." She said it almost cheerfully, but still made her words sound vaguely threatening. What the fuck. "Karkat needs to choose his words more carefully. If he meant what he said, I would not be friends with him, as I have experienced.... _similar_ troubles of my own. He struggles to be careful when he gets flustered. He happened to be flustered on this particular instance because he has wanted to interact with you for quite some time now."

You pause for a moment and think on that.

"Oh. Uh. Okay." You still aren't exactly sure what to make of this, but from the way Kanaya is looking at you, you'd say she would not be friends with Karkat if he meant what he said. " _Similar troubles_ " sounded like real queer subtext to you. And hell, you could use some friends like that. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, right? Don't look the super pale tall girl in the mouth.

Kanaya hummed. "Good." She nodded, your response apparently satisfactory. "Here. Since he is so absurdly socially inept sometimes, I will give you his tr- er. His chumhandle." Shaking her head, she gave you a slip of paper with neat, delicate writing. As you take it, you glance up to her, and she's wearing a small smile. 

"I believe you two will find yourselves to have more of a connection than you may think."


	3. WHAT ARE YOU WONDERING?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yknow That One Pesterlog? The one with karkat and john that everybody ever quotes? Yeah i did something a little fun with it. And another one, actually. C:<
> 
> (i literally copy pasted and rewrote the whoooole log. (Both of them!) It was fun tho hehe.
> 
> I figure that before dropping a bunch of angst and darkness on you all ill lull you into a false sense of security so have some silly boys being silly boys. Also shorter chapter technically but only because it's mostly pesterlog and i had a long week :(
> 
> also next chapter miiiiiight be from karkat's perspective. We'll see c;

When you get home, you shut the door, do your three point scan (couch-hallway-doorway) and determine the area safe before scuttling away to your room, locking the door and staring at the piece of paper in your hand with the neatly scrawled chumhandle on it. You aren't really sure what to make of any of this; the whole day had been a blur of faces and talking. The entirety of the Alternia Junior High kids all seemed to whisper about things you and your friends didn't presently understand, and sometimes they even speak in another language. It's kind of weird sounding, there's odd clicks and these trilling noises you didn't even think people could make. Jade suspects the school had a South African language immersion program. Because, y'know, rich kid shit.

After successfully flopping back onto your bed, holding the piece of paper up, you spend far too long trying to even think of what to fucking say. What are you supposed to start with? _Hey man, you're really fucking cute and supposedly aren't going to give me shit for thinking that but I'm still skeptical, also your sister/cousin/estranged friend gave me your handle because apparently you want to be my friend for some fucking reason and we have shit in common._

That's fucking terrible, but it sounds like you, one hundred percent. So you stall, and stall, and stall.

You _actually_ do your homework. Yeah, that's right. You did your math and AP Bio. You did your fucking homework. And then you snuck out to get some food and narrowly avoided one of the many swords in the fridge. You spun around in your desk chair. You spent over an hour trying to get some birds to your window so you could feed them. Birds other than crows, you mean. 

You've finally run out of shit to do and just decide to actually fucking message him. You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare blankly at the Pesterchum dashboard for a moment.

carcinoGeneticist, huh?

Might as well go for it.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 22:48!

TG: attention worthless nerdling

TG: this is your god speaking

TG: it is a particularly dickish god who likes getting on your nerves more than you could possibly imagine

TG: i have watched your brain go through the five stages of grief while staring upon my glorious visage

TG: i have watched you while you quake and tremble like a fuckin bookshelf in an earthquake

TG: while you pleaded forgiveness for whatever sins youve committed

TG: (its texas so thats a lot of fuckin sins dude better get on that)

TG: as i cast my great fist down upon your little grape head, and henceforth spill loads and loads of bullshit all over you

TG: layer after layer of ironic metaphors and confessions of enjoyment 

TG: all to watch you and your bogus morals worshipped by you and every other edgy sixteen year olds primitive locker room brains

TG: but your prayers will not be answered unfortunately

TG: were all out and we gotta order more

TG: you wanna complain? talk to my manager? well you cant even do that without the late thirties shorter in the back with blonde balayage bob or the two screaming children haha nope

TG: due to a lack of customer service reps and the economy you will have to send a letter to our corporate address if you would like to catch the attention of any of the men with ties shoved up their asses

TG: no siree there are no miracles in store

TG: none in the back either 

TG: i checked

TG: twice

TG: nope sorry all we to offer is my obnoxiousness

TG: obnoxiousness so pure and infuriating it would consume your sad underdeveloped mind to even contemplate the layers of obnoxious i got going here

TG: it is such pure undiluted obnoxiousness that to fathom must be put into nothing other than song

TG: rapped by myself

TG: but while i am a freestyling god i think any more red text filling up your screen will actually blind you temporarily

TG: but this obnoxiousness?

TG: it has shaped your entire being and will surely kick your ass

TG: my obnoxiousness is the life blood that pulses through the veins of your little universe

TG: its a gift from me to you

TG: happy birthday

TG: youre an asshole

TG: youre welcome for that

TG: you ungrateful piece of shit

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is online!

CG: WHAT?

TG: hi karkat

CG: HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME. 

TG: oh man

TG: this is it isnt it

TG: ive been looking forward to this

CG: WHAT IS "IT".

CG: ME HATING YOU IS WHAT'S "IT".

CG: IF THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN, YEAH, BINGO. 

CG: I CONTROL YOUR VERY NIGHTMARES FROM HERE ON OUT. SO WATCH YOUR TONGUE AND KNOCK ALL THIS SHIT OFF. I CAN MAKE YOUR SLEEPING LIFE HELL.

CG: AND WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THAT MASSIVE WALL OF BULLSHIT BEHIND THIS CONVERSATION?

CG: DID YOU REHEARSE THAT IN THE MIRROR BEFORE SITTING YOUR ASS DOWN AND SENDING IT TO ME?

TG: no i mean this is the first actual decent conversation between us

TG: right

CG: YEAH. 

CG: WELL

CG: ARE YOU SUGGESTING WHEN WE SPOKE BEFORE IT WASN'T DECENT FOR SOME FUCKING REASON?

CG: BESIDES. THE OBVIOUS.

TG: i should introduce myself properly

TG: gotta get my gentlemanly manners on here

TG: sup karkat

TG: im dave

CG: WHY WOULD I GIVE A PUNGENT WHIPPING LUMPSQUIRT WHAT YOUR NAME IS.

TG: you already know it but i figured id repeat it

TG: i thought you might have accidentally given yourself eardrum damage from all the shouting

TG: and typically friends know other friends names isnt that right

CG: I ADMIT I AM ALREADY AWARE OF YOUR NAME.

CG: BUT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY THINK ANY OF THE THINGS YOU SAY.

CG: INCLUDING THE INSANE NOTION THAT WE'RE SOMEHOW "FRIENDS".

TG: yeah we totally are

TG: we just got all buddy buddy in a weird ass way this afternoon

TG: i got to meet all your fancy private school pals and chat them up real good

TG: and that funky chick kanaya hatched a whole ass plan to get us in contact

TG: which is currently in motion

TG: because apparently you so desperately crave my contact and attention like a whorish cat

CG: THESE ARE LIES. 

CG: I KNOW WHEN I AM BEING TROLLED, WHO DO YOU EVEN THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO HERE. 

TG: one of my loyal subjects

TG: im god, yeah

CG: OF COURSE. YOU, A COMPLETE AND UTTER MORON, ARE GOD. HOW COULD I FORGET.

CG: AND WHAT'S THIS BULLSHIT "PLAN" YOU'RE JABBERING ON ABOUT TO NO END?

CG: BEFORE YOU SPOUT SOME MORE NONSENSE THAT'S LESS INTELLIGENT THAN THE ALLIGATOR THAT LIVES IN THE SEWERS, I HAVE TO STATE FOR THE RECORD I DID *NOT* AND DO NOT FUCKING CRAVE YOUR ATTENTION.

CG: YOUR ATTENTION IS THE LEAST OF MY CONCERNS.

TG: see all i hear is "im not a tsudere baka"

CG: WHAT THE ACTUAL *FUCK* DOES THAT MEAN.

CG: RIDICULOUS. 

CG: I DIDN'T WRIGGLE OUT OF A PUDDLE OF SLIME YESTERDAY, BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT'S SUPPOSED TO MEAN.

TG: do you regularly wriggle out of a puddle of slime or

CG: NO!

CG: ... YES.

CG: NO!!!!

CG: I DO NOT THINK YOU APPRECIATE THE GRAVITY OF MY ANTIPATHY, DAVE STRIDER.

TG: just dave

CG: OK, JUST DAVE.

CG: I FUCKING LOATHE THE SHIT YOU SAY, AND I HAVE TUNED INTO YOUR CHANNEL MOMENTS AS YOU SLEEP AND HAVE GROWN TO HATE THAT SMUG LOOK ON YOUR FACE, WITH JUST ENOUGH TIME FOR ME TO BASICALLY COMPLETELY FUCKING DESTROY YOU WITH HOSTILE RHETORIC. 

CG: THERE IS NO CHANCE I WILL EVER CRAVE YOUR ATTENTION OR SPARE YOU.

CG: YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I HATE YOU OR WHY I HATE YOU. 

CG: I WASN'T JOKING WHEN I SAID I THINK YOU'RE A MORON, JUST TO REITERATE.

CG: OR WHEN I SAID I AM WHAT HAUNTS YOUR NON-WAKING HOURS.

CG: I AM LITERALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR SLEEP CYCLE. 

CG: I FUCKING OWN DERSE, YOU OBLIVIOUS ASS.

TG: man i know all that shit

TG: and when i say i know all that shit i mean this aint any kind of news to my galaxy brain

TG: but tbh you sound fuckin crazy so lets back up before you started spouting nonsense and threatening me with those white girl beaded dreamcatchers

TG: maybe you should go take a time out

CG: A TIME OUT? I'M NOT THREE SW

CG: *SIX YEARS OLD. 

CG: WOW, YOUR SPECIES REALLY IS BRAINDEAD.

TG: eh never mind you dont have a sense of humor

TG: anyway

TG: i thought this was supposed to be the conversation where we become best buds and spill intimate truths about each other

TG: come on bro flame me

TG: ive been hyping myself up for some hardcore feels jams in here

CG: YOU ACTUALLY WANT ME TO TRY AND BEFRIEND YOU? 

CG: I MEAN 

CG: I CAN 

CG: BUT IT'S NOT LIKE I'VE BEEN FUCKING LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS!

TG: kanaya literally told me you wanted to be buds

CG: IT'S JUST KIND OF WEIRD YOU'RE ACTUALLY BRINGING THAT SHIT UP. 

TG: uhhh

TG: i dunno

TG: im bored and my friends are busy and my sisters are gonna wreak havoc on my whole life in like a week so

TG: bring on the friendship bro

TG: i just think its kinda funny when you freak the fuck out over nothing and your face gets all red

CG: THAT'S REALLY CONDESCENDING AND IT'S HARD TO CONVEY HOW MUCH MORE I JUST GOT PISSED OFF THAN I ALREADY WAS. 

CG: BUT MAYBE IT MAKES SENSE ACTUALLY 

CG: THAT YOU WELCOME MY ACRIMONY SO READILY 

CG: ON ACCOUNT OF PROBABLY SOME WEIRD TUMOR YOU DEVELOPED LIKE A PUNISHMENT FOR BEING STUPID OR SOME SILLY SOUNDING THING LIKE THAT.

CG: IT MIGHT MEAN THAT KANAYA IS RIGHT ABOUT YOU. 

TG: right about what

CG: I MEAN THAT IT SEEMS LIKE WE ARE CONNECTED IN SOME WAY, DON'T YOU THINK.

CG: SORT OF COSMICALLY. 

CG: LIKE OUR HATE FOR EACH OTHER IS SO STRONG IT MUST HAVE BEEN WRITTEN IN THE STARS. 

CG: YOU KNOW, THE ONES YOU MADE FOR US. BECAUSE YOU'RE GOD, APPARENTLY.

TG: bro i dont hate you youre kinda funny sometimes if not a total ass

CG: HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY CLAIM TO HAVE TALKED TO ME A LOT ALREADY AND NOT HATE ME, SEE IT DOESN'T ADD UP. 

CG: I'M THE FUCKING WORST. HOW COULD YOU NOT BE DISGUSTED BY THE VERY THOUGHT OF ME.

TG: are you one of those guys that gets off to criticism or some shit

CG: WHAT, NO. 

CG: WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR.

TG: someone who wants me to hate them for reasons that have been vaguely explained but dont really line up

TG: is this about like

TG: the

TG: the thing

CG: THE THING?

TG: the uh

TG: like the

TG: thing you said

TG: like is this some weird thing where you think i hate you because you said some dumb shit without knowing

CG: I MEAN 

CG: OK I'M NOT SAYING I'M RULING OUT THE IDEA OR ANYTHING.

CG: I MEAN IT'S NOT LIKE I'M SEEKING YOU OUT FOR THAT ONLY!

CG: I MEAN IT'S SOMETHING WE HAVE IN COMMON.

CG: FUCK WHAT AM I BABBLING ABOUT. 

CG: THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS, WE JUST MET FOR FUCK'S SAKE, AND I'M FUCKING THINGS UP ALREADY.

CG: SO FORGET I SAID ANYTHING. 

CG: GOD, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. 

TG: uh

TG: im just like

TG: caught off guard

TG: because 

TG: well like im

TG: i dunno its just cool to talk to someone who has feelings for guys too yknow

CG: WHAT FEELINGS, THERE ARE NO FEELINGS, END OF DISCUSSION.

TG: what i

TG: oh

CG: WHAT 

TG: i thought you were gay

CG: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? 

TG: dude where the fuck are you from

TG: like

TG: when a dude like another dude

TG: or a chick likes another chick

CG: THERE'S A WORD FOR THAT? 

TG: uh. yeah

CG: HOW IS THAT EVEN A THING?

CG: WHY DOES IT FUCKING MATTER?

CG: THAT'S WEIRD.

TG: i am just as confused by you and your friends

TG: i kind of got the impression that you and kanaya were a thing at first but

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN A THING.

TG: i dunno

TG: like some bizarre double cover up

TG: where you pretend to date each other but secretly have a secret same sex scandal going on

TG: aint rhat how it works sometimes

CG: YOU ARE SUCH AN IGNORAMUS I COULD SHIT MILES OF RAGE SNAKE TO CHOKE YOU TO DEATH. 

TG: classy

CG: WHO HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING TO, WHAT HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT THAT. 

TG: no one man

TG: i talked to kanaya

TG: she gave me gay vibes

TG: i dunno i got a tingle

CG: OK FIRST OF ALL, EW.

CG: IF THERE WERE A "THING" WITH HER, AND THAT'S A HUGE IF 

CG: IT WOULD BE A TOTALLY DIFFERENT THING THAN WHAT YOU'RE THINKING OF.

CG: IT'S HARD TO EXPLAIN.

TG: explain it then

CG: SECOND, WHETHER SHE AND I HAVE A THING OR DON'T HAVE A THING, OR TOOK A ROMANTIC HOT AIR BALLOON RIDE SUSPENDED IN A GODDAMN-

CG: UH. WHATEVER. TOGETHER.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS.

CG: GOT IT???????? 

TG: okay goddamn cool your jets

TG: i like when you get pissed but that got intense bro

TG: this conversation is not going how i thought it would at all

CG: YEAH.

TG: yeah

CG: HUH. 

TG: well

TG: uh

CG: OK, LOOK. 

CG: LET'S JUST AGREE TO NEVER BRING IT UP AGAIN. 

CG: THE STUFF I WAS BABBLING ABOUT EARLIER. 

CG: BUT IF I TALK TO YOU AGAIN 

CG: YOU'LL REMEMBER MY EMBARRASSING SHIT 

CG: SO I GUESS 

CG: I'LL HAVE TO WIPE YOUR MEMORY.

TG: just like men in black

CG: I THINK WE NEED TO GET BACK ON POINT HERE. 

CG: WHICH IS ADDRESSING THE MATTER OF WHAT INCOMPREHENSIBLY PUTRID GARBAGE YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS ARE AND HOW MUCH I HATE YOU ALL.

TG: thought it was just me you hated 

TG: cmon bro

TG: john and jade is good people

CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

CG: SO YOU WANTED TO GET FRIENDSHIP, WELL YOU GOT IT. 

CG: DID THAT SATISFY YOUR FUCKING NEEDY ASS FRIENDSHIP METER?

CG: ARE YOU FUCKING SATISFIED?

CG: ARE YOU????

TG: not really bro

CG: WELL TOO BAD FOR YOU.

CG: I'M GOING TO SLEEP.

TG: oh i see how it is

TG: taking the cowards way out huh

TG: scampering off to give in to the sweet mistress of rem sleep

TG: fine

TG: sayonara douchewagon

CG: SAYONARA YOU WORTHLESS CROTCHSTAINED BARFPUPPET. 

CG: I WILL BID YOU ONE FIRST AND FINAL FUCK YOU. 

CG: FUCK YOU, DAVE STRIDER.

CG: FUCK YOU AND FUCK THE DUMBASS SHADES YOU WEAR.

CG: FUCK. 

CG: FUCKING. 

CG: YOU. 

CG: I'M GOING TO SLEEP.

TG: wait

TG: what

TG: are you serious

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:02.

You snort a quiet laugh, glancing out your window. The world has gone dark. It's getting late already and you didn't even notice, somehow so wrapped up in this ridiculous conversation with an even more ridiculous person. You're considering going to sleep yourself; the whole bed feels so warm, like you put one of those old school heating pans underneath it. Everything is vaguely fuzzy, the whole room seeming to hum contently. 

Your phone pings and brings you out of your stupor. It couldn't have been more than five minutes, but you aren't really sure. You're starting to really feel how damn tired you are. It takes all the energy you have left to prop up your phone and actually respond.

cacinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:15!

CG: HEY SHITHEAD YOU ARE IN HUGE TROUBLE. 

TG: i thought you were asleep

CG: YES DAVE, I WAS ASLEEP AT ONE POINT. 

CG: IT STANDS TO REASON I AM NOW AND WILL ALWAYS BE AWAKE, AS SLEEP IS USELESS TO ME.

CG: THAT REALLY MAKES A LOT OF FUCKING SENSE. 

CG: NOW YOU, ME, AND KANAYA NEED TO HAVE A CHAT, AS I JUST HAD A NOT SO LOVELY CONVERSATION WITH HER ABOUT ALL THIS SHIT.

CG: HERE I MADE A COOL BANNER USING SOME OF YOUR SHITTY EARTH CLIP ART. 

CG: CLICK IT. 

You click the link he sent you. It's beautiful, frankly. Some of the worst clip art you've ever seen. A couple of fruits. "Fruity Asshole Rumpus", he geniusly titles his masterpiece. A real period piece. You fucking love it. It's even funnier at this particular moment, because you're sleepy as shit and would probably laugh at anything right now.

TG: not cool 

TG: luring me into your cyber boobytrap with shitty clip art who told you my weakness 

CG: IT'LL WORK, WON'T IT? 

TG: obviously

TG: now go back to sleep before you draw yourself into a coma

TG: gnight asshole

turntechGodhead [TG] is offline.

CG: OH FUCK OFF.

CG: YOU WOKE ME UP ANYWAYS.

CG: ...

CG: ... GOODNIGHT DAVE.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is offline.

You'd like to call this friendship, but honestly, you aren't sure what it is. Having a half an hour of bizarre, flip flopping banter with a guy you aren't even really sure if you like or not is one way to fuck up your head. 

You fall asleep with a grin on your face anyways and a weird, intangible warmth slipping over your hands and chest, gracing your forehead briefly. It's only right now, when you aren't worried about anything at all, that your mind thinks of someone kissing your forehead goodnight, tucking the covers around you carefully. You'd obviously never admit to wishing you got anything like that. But as you drift off, it's... nice.


	4. WHAT DO YOU KNOW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posted this a little later than usual, mostly because i wrote most of the chapter an hour ago! Sorry for not posting at one am on a tuesday like i always do lol.
> 
> This chapter will either make you understand everything a little more, or leave you way more confused. The most likely outcome is both.  
> It's not super plot forward, nor is there as many mentions of other characters as i thought there would be, but I'm still glad i wrote it
> 
> AND THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 KUDOS! y'all are great. thank you all so much for all the love.
> 
> edit: wowie zowie look who didn't proofread? me bitch

There is something stirring in your guts, and you do _not_ like it.

It's a completely unfamiliar feeling. You've never felt something so _uncomfortable_ , so nerve wracking. This stirring makes you want to do stupid things, and sometimes you get far too close to doing them. It's a stirring unlike any other, the rearrangement of your innards without your permission, and you don't know why you're feeling this way. Not the delightful butterflies in your digestive tract that your favorite books describe when the main character sees a flush crush, but something so much more intense, so much deeper inside you. It is tearing you up from the inside out, driving you insane at all hours of the day, and all you want is for it to leave you be.

At first, you considered sickness.

You sent Kanaya trolls at one in the morning, when you knew she'd be getting up, with repeated chants of your symptoms, hoping that the most caring person you knew would have some kind answer to sate this feeling. She gave several passive replies about your emotions and some other therapy bullshit you didn't know what to make of. You've heard she came into contact with some kind of psychologist recently, and you aren't sure if you like it. You replied with aggressive brushing off of her pitiful but not really _pitiful_ pitiful recommendations, but finished each conversation with a diamond, just so she knows. 

(It's more to reassure you than her. It's never about her, of course, because you're a shitty, insecure 'rail. You need that validation at all times, because you've been insecure as fuck since the day you hatched and were kicked out of limbo.)

There wasn't much medicine available to you. Well, there is. But it just won't work, you're pretty sure. Human medicine doesn't cater to shadows, typically. There's probably things available in the dream cities of Prospit, but your kind aren't welcomed there, and you were kicked out of limbo long ago, now. You shuffled into the way too bright pharmacy down the corner from where you've been spending your nights, aside from Kanaya's house, and dug through the aisles, trying to find every nausea and anxiety medication you could. You shovelled them into your arms before putting them back one by one as you finally faced the real problem. Because the problem isn't really your body. Or, at least, it isn't some sort of virus you can simply flush out, or a disorder that can be hushed with medication. Nope. Of fucking course not. Instead, it's a dumb blond that walks out of the same pharmacy, looking defeated, crumbling at the foundation, and deserving of all of your attention and care.

Fuck, you _hate_ how your pan thinks like that now.

You're at war with your body. All you want is to relentlessly care for him. Get him out of that shithole, to somewhere, anywhere better. So you don't have to rely on clawing things up while shifted, crouching under his bed or in the closet at night, secretly pulling out chunks of that evil piece of shit that's supposed to take care of his hair as he sleeps. Because you feel like there isn't much you can do, besides try to rid the apartment of all things purely evil, try to make it a little better while you can. You've made good headway, if you do say so yourself. That wretched doll thing was the worst of it. The first time you spent a night shifted in the small apartment, you found yourself drawn away from your boy and to the object practically radiating pure, dark energy. The horrorterrors must have set up shop in that being long before you even scouted out the place, but you clawed it to shreds and left it lying on the floor of the ablution block. You managed to vanish some of the weapons, too— you're pretty sure they won't bother anyone in limbo, and the boy shouldn't have to risk losing a vital organ every time he wants to open a cabinet or the refrigerator. 

And you've been trying, ever so carefully, to piece back together the fragments of his Derse he has left. There isn't much now, just the tiniest fragments that you spend to give him brief moments of unconsciousness. It's even harder for you, your typical safe dream form (safe for you, at least) having massive claws, trying to handle such delicate shards of hope and light. You've pushed them together yourself and broken quite a few. _This isn't your job_ , your body screamed at first. This is the work of a cherub. You aren't supposed to do anything in this dreamspace but wreak havoc. But you'll do _anything_ for him. 

You know the legend of the death of his dreamself, and you know it isn't true. There isn't some one-use-throw-away rule with dreamselves, at least for the humans. His safe space in his head was the nicest place, too. When he was younger, you know he managed to get past Derse itself and make it to his own land. He was always so relaxed there, the bubbling lava and ticking sounds keeping him content for hours, keeping him safer than he'd ever be when he woke up. And even now that it's gone, lost somewhere in his mind, you're still going to be here to steer him away from anything dangerous. You've been good about pulling those little fragments of Derse back from the depths of his mind, trying to get him there every night if you could. And on those nights where you couldn't find any more pieces, you've tried to keep him up, lest he falls victim to horrorterrors. He had been up for days before you were strong enough again to hush him into the quiet, empty darkness of his dead dreamself. You protect the little space yourself, trying to bring back those elements of his land he'd remember. _Heat. Ticking. Lava._

You still aren't sure what that pulling in your gut is. You aren't willing to listen to the folktales of a human and its supernatural guardian, the pairs that break the rules instilled by the Empress, defying quadrants and human romance and everything to be together forever.

You'll leave all that in your Empress approved quadrant books.

Where it belongs.

* * *

"You know, you really should be more careful, Karkat."

"I _do_ fucking know!"

"Than why are you not being careful?"

Kanaya clicked her tongue at you as the two of you stared at the weird human kids that were already invading your group. Vriska sent a mass text this morning saying she chose today to have them finally become acquainted with their counterparts. There's only four, much to many of the group's disappointment, but you've never seen Terezi so excited meet people.

"I can't believe I talked to him. I can't believe I gave him fucking _makeup wipes_."

"You should be thanking me, if anything, as I actually got you to talk to him. As you have been appropriately following him for months, but simply blending because you aren't sure what to say to him, although you clearly would like to communicate with him somehow-"

"It's _illegal_. I can't fucking _communicate_ with him. This whole program of having us out and about, posing as humans just so we can get to our counterparts faster is just fucking jailbait."

And you've been staring at your favorite flavor of jailbait's back for almost three and a half minutes before he actually turns around and shoots you a grin you hate that you love.

You can't risk him getting any closer to you. You don't want him hurt. He's all you have, you only get one human counterpart that you're supposed to feed from and terrorize for your entire lifespan. He's so fragile. You can't believe you're expected to hurt someone who's already so hurt.

* * *

You didn't believe Kanaya when she first told you she gave him your Troll handle. After messaging furiously with him, you decided to express your emotions in a calm, mild mannered way.

CG: ARE YOU FUCKING *SERIOUS*?

CG: YOU GAVE HIM MY HANDLE?!

CG: WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT?

CG: DON'T YOU FUCKING REMEMBER HOW MANY RULES I'M ALREADY FUCKING BREAKING?

CG: OH, WAIT. NOT RULES. LAWS.

CG: SUPERNATURAL LAW!

CG: DON'T YOU KNOW HOW FUCKED I CAN GET FROM THIS KIND OF CONTACT?

CG: HOW FUCKED ALL OF US CAN GET?

CG: THIS EXCHANGE PROGRAM IS FUCKING JAILBAIT. 

The two of you didn't talk the rest of the night. 

She's going to dump your ass and you know it. You haven't even bothered listening for a second about how her supposed partner is finally getting here. You remember when the year started and almost everyone had their human counterpart on the radar, except for her. It was disappointing. She claims that hers will arrive sometime within a month. You're happy for her.

You deserve to be dumped at this point. You've always been a shitty 'rail. It's fine.

You'll deal with it. You always do.

* * *

Dave messages you constantly.

It becomes a running joke for you two not to say a word to each other in person. You sarcastically message him about an obnoxious asshole named Dave. He returns with tales about a creepy weirdo named Karkat. You fight, and it's okay, you can tell. You don't see him set his phone down, eyes glazed over as you apologize for something you shouldn't have said, from your position under the bed. You know to be more careful than that now. You have to be as careful as physically, mentally, and socially fucking possible around him. He tends to message you late at night, falling asleep with your chat window still open. You're always tucked neatly away, hidden in some corner of comfortable darkness in his room now. So when you see him whip out his phone on his bed, you tap your watch from your space in the closet and ready yourself. Defenses up. 

turntechGodhead [TG] began ~~trolling~~ pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 24:02.

TG: man i can't believe how fuckin tired i am

TG: up all night up all day

TG: if you know what i mean

CG: I'M ASSUMING THAT WAS SOME SHITTY, PATHETIC ATTEMPT AT HUMOR. SEXUAL HUMOR, TO BE SPECIFIC.

CG: HA. HA.

CG: HAS YOUR CRAVING FOR VALIDATION THAT YOU'RE AMUSING BEEN SATISFIED YET?

TG: yeah thanks for that bro really helping a homie out

TG: if you know what i mean

CG: NO. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN.

CG: IF I CAN GET OUT MY IDIOCRACY DICTIONARY HERE, I'LL TRANSLATE.

CG: AHEM.

TG: did you actually just write out clearing your throat

CG: "ASSISTING A FRIEND (HOMIE) WITH A TASK".

CG: DON'T GET IT.

TG: nah its like a locker room thing yknow

CG: NO. 

TG: oh yeah you dont do gym because of the thing

CG: IT'S CALLED PHOTO-FUCKING-SENSITIVITY, JACKASS.

TG: whatever dude

TG: but like

TG: like a circlejerk yknow

CG: FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS BOTH HOLY AND UNHOLY, *PLEASE* SHUT YOUR ENDLESSLY FLAPPING TRAP.

TG: a homie doing another homie a favor

TG: without any kind of homoerotic subtext whatsoever

CG: AT THAT POINT, IT'S NOT SUBTEXT. IT'S JUST TEXT. IDIOT.

You get to hear him laugh at your jokes as you message him from not even a foot away. You can feel his every move. All you want to do is push the door open, let him know it's you that's been here the whole time for him, give him that silent, dark warmth you're pretty sure he doesn't mind drifting in and out of as he sleeps. It's better than the alternative, at least— stuck in a loop with horrorterrors on the loose, losing far too much sleep. Speaking of, you haven't slept at all. Well, you don't sleep anyways, but you haven't fed in days. The bags under your eyes when you appear human are bigger than ever. Your other form shrinks, becoming weaker, fainter. And you still don't dare getting close to him again in his dreams. You've never felt so close to someone, yet so far away.

* * *

The two of you keep talking. About _everything_.

* * *

CG: I DON'T UNDERSTAND. WHAT COULD YOU EVER POSSIBLY HAVE AGAINST LINDSAY LOHAN?

TG: idk man 

TG: that forces me to choose between the multiple arrests and the cocaine problem

CG: EVERYONE IN HOLLYWOOD IS ON CRACK.

CG: LEGITIMATELY.

CG: THAT'S JUST HOW IT IS.

* * *

TG: dont you ever wish people werent assholes

CG: EVERY TIME I TALK TO YOU, THAT WISH LOSES MOMENTUM.

TG: ha haaaaa

TG: but i mean like

TG: people who are supposed to like you actually caring about you

TG: that kind of shit

CG: I LIKE YOU.

CG: SO DO YOUR FRIENDS.

TG: but like everyone else

TG: its like theres a whole group of us that

TG: i dunno

TG: people just think theres something wrong with us and we cant tell why

CG: IT'S BECAUSE PEOPLE SUCK.

TG: well articulated

* * *

CG: I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I CAN'T ANSWER THAT QUESTION.

TG: cmon dude

TG: nothing wrong with a little feelings jam between bros

TG: you totally liked terezi at one point

CG: WELL

CG: YES

CG: FINE. YES I DID! BUT IT WAS A LONG FUCKING TIME AGO AND WE'VE BOTH MOVED ON FROM THAT EMBARRASSING SECTOR OF OUR LIVES.

TG: i fucking knew it

CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

TG: so

TG: just terezi

CG: NO.

TG: well who else then

CG: WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I SAY? WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I TELL YOU?

TG: because ill listen

CG: WHATEVER.

CG: YOUR TURN, DICKWEED.

* * *

TG: god

TG: hey can i come over

TG: just for a little while please

TG: like i know weve never even done anything like outside of school and i dont even know where your place is but

TG: fuck uhh

TG: this is really kind of time sensitive so chop chop

CG: OH UH

CG: NO, SORRY.

CG: FUCK.

CG: SORRY.

CG: YOU CAN'T RIGHT NOW.

TG: nah i get it

TG: short notice strict parents yadda yadda

TG: whatever excuse you like man

TG: its cool

TG: ill talk to you later

CG: WAIT

CG: NO I

turntechGodhead [TG] is offline. 

Your pusher clenches as he sets his phone aside, letting it drop onto his bedside table— exhausted. Bruised. Destroyed. You can smell the blood running from his nose, hear as he sniffs and wipes some of it off. You knew it had been a long night for him before you even slipped in through his window, nearly invisible, just a thin wisp of black. Now you spend your nights here more often than over at Kanaya's, but you two haven't been talking as much as you'd like anyways. It's a tough situation. Hiding out under his bed isn't really uncomfortable, but it feels weird sometimes, even though you know this is technically where your species thrives. You want to be close to him. You just want to help, soothe the ache in your gut.

You're going to make his phone buzz until he picks it up again. 

CG: DAVE 

CG: DAVE!

CG: DAVE FOR FUCK'S SAKE

CG: DAVE LOOK AT YOUR FUCKING PHONE

It takes a few minutes, but he clearly is annoyed by the buzzing and by you enough that he snatches his phone from the table, audibly wincing. You almost sigh, but catch yourself.

turntechGodhead [TG] is online!

TG: for fucks sake what is it

TG: and if you spend another five minutes telling me the plot of one of those convoluted ass romcoms im blocking you bro

CG: NOT THIS TIME. THEY'RE REALLY FUCKING GOOD, BY THE WAY.

CG: YOU JUST HAVE NO SENSE FOR ROMANCE AND TIMING.

CG: ANYWAYS!!

CG: WHAT'S YOUR ADDRESS.

TG: why

CG: WHY DO YOU FUCKING THINK.

TG: 2934 ne staton

TG: wait no you shouldnt come over here if thats what your thinking

TG: but if youre ordering me a pizza please continue

CG: TOO LATE. I WAS CLOSE ANYWAYS.

CG: GO GET THE DOOR, DUMBASS.

You hear the bed creak, his phone being dropped with a soft thump, and his feet swing over, touching the ground inches away from you. You hold in a breath, a habit you need to break from being human so much. Going to school every day instead of missing out on weeks at a time to get more energy is exhausting, and you've picked up all these weird human habits you hate. Breathing. Blinking. Moving. Thank god you're not human right now, otherwise this space would be way more cramped. But once Dave slips out of his room, heading to the front door, you slip out, easily darting and blending with the shadow of his dresser. It's there that you do start to take breaths, in and out, feelings feet and legs start to return, arms and shoulders and a head all making themselves known from what was nothing before. It feels so much tighter, so much more contained than regular form, after easily darting through the darkness for a day now. The weekends are so relaxing, but being human again makes for an odd switch.

You don't have very long before he hears you lumbering around. Humanity is so loud, you're so heavy as you step across the floor, climbing up onto the windowsill and sitting there. The front door opens and shuts. You hold your breath again as Dave comes down the hallway and back into his room.

He's worse than you thought he would be. Being a shadow means much less vision, more _feeling_ , so you didn't expect the array of cuts across his cheekbone and chin, the many bruises that never seem to fade from around his neck and collar. When he sees you sitting there, his beat up faces gives you a beat up smile. It's nice, if not completely and totally pitiful. 

"Totally had me reeling there for a second. Thought you just psyched me out or somethin'." Dave raises his eyebrows, and you glance down at your feet, which are absently swinging below the windowsill. 

"Good. Can't have you getting too sure of yourself."

He laughs, and you almost smile. You don't, though. Just look at him, look over the blood smeared over his lip, the cuts and the bruises. You know if you ask, then he'll kick you out, or push you away, or get mad. So you aren't going to ask, you're just going to _do_.

You can tell he notices your observing, looking uncomfortable under your scrutiny. It's probably been too long since anyone has talked, so you'll do that. "We're going to the bathroom," You announce, slipping down off the windowsill with a soft grunt, looking up at him determinedly.

"Whadda ya mean, _we_? Do you have to have a friend there while you piss or something?"

You just roll your eyes, grabbing hold of him by the shirt and tugging him down so you're eye to... Shades. "We're going to the bathroom," you repeat. Not a hint of emotions crosses his face. He just kind of shrugs indifferently, and you let go, the weird feeling of the cottony material still echoing on your fingers. 

In a few minutes, you have Dave sitting on the counter across from the sink in the bathroom adjacent to his room. _Lucky bastard got a whole bathroom to himself_ , you think every time you see it after remembering Kanaya spending half an hour on her hair. You've been swiping at the cuts with rubbing alcohol, much to Dave's chagrin, and dabbing numbing ointment over them once they were clean. It's a delicate process, and you both sit in silence as you finish the last one. That's better, at least. The cuts look less red, less swollen. You take a cotton ball and dampen it, wiping off the blood smeared over his lip. The silence is deafening. It's a weirdly intimate moment, and clearly the two of you both suck at actually interacting in person.

Once you're finished, you pack up the medical supplies neatly, pushing everything back into its place in the cabinet. He looks at you strangely when you do, asks how you know where everything goes. ~~I've seen you do it too many times. I've watched you do it on your own with tears in your eyes. I've seen you hurting far more than you were today.~~ You shrug and reply you saw where it all was when he pulled it out. 

It's almost one in the morning as the both of you lay on his bed. He's lying on his stomach, head in his arms, as you go quiet after talking about something stupid involving some actor the two of you always argue over. You weren't putting much effort into your words anyways, so when he speaks again, you've already stopped talking.

"How long can you stay here?" He asks quietly, glancing over at you from above his folded arms. You can feel how tired he is, feel it in your veins. You have no choice; you'll have to feed from him a little bit tonight. But being so close to him makes it easier. You'll be able to control it. Make it manageable for him. Last time, you were so hungry, so exhausted, you lost control. While it may have felt good to be so strong again, you can't let yourself crave his fear. That makes you the absolute worst shadow there is, disobeying your very purpose of being. But you don't care.

"As long as you want me here."

Dave doesn't say anything, just tucks his nose back down and rests his forehead against the pillow.

"Go to sleep," You insist suddenly. He looks back up, eyebrows furrowing over his shades. 

"Why?"

"You're tired. Just go the fuck to sleep."

More silence. He doesn't want you here while he's vulnerable like that. No, he just doesn't want anyone here. That's all.

"I'll be here when you wake up." It's a false promise. You probably won't be here. You can already feel your stomach churning uncomfortably, the image of him waking up alone again, curling back into the sheets, silent and meek, flashing through your mind, already haunting you. You'll make sure he knows something is there. Something that will keep him safe. 

He doesn't protest again, just mumbles about unplanned sleepovers and not knowing how to make any breakfast food besides toast. You stand up and flick off the lights, making sure the door is shut all the way. Just like he normally does. You want it to feel like you're not even there to him. You want to touch him and be close to him without being so physically imposing, because he doesn't really want you here anyways. 

But when you lay down next to him and focus, your legs and arms are numb again, and you start to fade back into that comfortable darkness you prefer. It's much easier with all the lights off, anyways. His breathing isn't steady yet, so you start to focus on that, instead, sending a flicker of warmth over to his calf, then the inside of his thigh, then his sides and chest. His breathing is even and slow. He's asleep.

You don't worry about how many times you put yourself at risk for culling in just the last hour. You just reach out again, a long wisp of flickering black where your arm once was, and let yourself sink into the comfort of what will now be his full dream. You're small, still, really needing to sap some energy from him tonight. Get his heart rate up high, but not like last time. Something nice, you think absently. It's difficult, holding the very last piece of Derse that remains in his mind, this little purple glass shard that feels of broken hope. This one needs to be good.

You aren't sure what he needs right now. So you'll let him decide. 

You drop the last fragment of Derse, letting it fall through limbo. 

The world turns purple around you, and you're no longer in control. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus supplemental! make of it what you will.
> 
> THE SUPERNATURAL COVENANT CIRCA 1643 STATES THAT ALL CREATURES SHALL OBEY THE LAW UNDER WHICH THEY ARE GOVERNED TO HUNT THEIR HUMAN COUNTERPART APPROPRIATELY. EXCEPTIONS INCLUDE;  
> i. SAID HUMAN COUNTERPART HAS NOT REACHED AN AGE APPROPRIATE TO HUNT.  
> ii. SAID HUMAN COUNTERPART IS DECEASED BY OTHER MEANS.  
> iii. SAID HUMAN COUNTERPART HAS BEEN LOST COMPLETELY, IN WHICH CASE, AN ABANDONED COUNTERPART CAN "BOND" TO A HUNTER AS A REPLACEMENT.
> 
> HUNTING SHOULD ALWAYS OCCUR DURING EVE HOURS. HUNTING DURING DAYLIGHT WILL RESULT IN CULLING. ANY SORT OF SUPERNATURAL SOLICITING OR USE OF PSIONICS AND OTHER MAJICKS AROUND HUMANS AND HUMAN COUNTERPARTS WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE CULLING. POST CULL, SAID HUMANS WITNESS TO SUCH ACTIONS WILL BE DISPOSED OF.
> 
> BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.
> 
> signed )(.I.C., circa 1643  
> signed Lord English, circa 1643  
> scribes cherub Calliope take responsibility for any and all mistakes on this document


	5. WHY AREN'T YOU SCARED OF ME?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst™
> 
> No need to keep reading, here's the whole fic right [here](https://bewbin.tumblr.com/post/186310274419).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnngh I should have planned this chapter better.  
> It was supposed to be mostly school stuff but then my brain said no. 
> 
> Annnyways. Sorry for the late chapter. It's a decent length to make up for tardiness. THANK YALL FOR THE SUPPORT! like holy shit. This might end up one of my best fics. It's been fun to write so far c:
> 
> If any of my cherub rp partners see this: I Am Not Sorry (but i will reply soon. probably.)

As your eyes shut, they open again much faster this time. There isn't some waiting period, no voices, no darkness, nothing reaching out and grasping for you. It's like you were dropped straight here. Everything is so _clear_ , so crisp. It's like you're actually looking at it all. You can feel the sheets. Hear your own breathing, loud in your ear. You smell something, you can't place it, but it was something you smelled long ago, some day that you'll never fully remember. Everything is in total high def, ultra 3D, it's overwhelming. You have to focus on one thing, or risk actual sensory overload.

For a second, you think you actually woke up. You're laying down on a bed, blinking up at a purple ceiling. Huh. You don't feel tired or sore at all as you sit up, and glancing around, it's a purple bedroom. There's windows, showing the sun rising over a purple city. So much fucking purple. You remember this place, you dreamed about it all the time as a little kid. Purple had been your favorite color for a while after all. 

You reflexively reach down to grab at your pant leg— you have this habit of tugging them down since they always ride up— but instead of the old black sweatpants, you find frilly pajamas that actually seem to fit you. Huh. You're totally decked out in some weird PJs, with a moon on them to boot. You don't remember wearing these, or dreaming about them, but this dream is much less hazy than the rest of them. All the images are clear in your mind, but you know you're asleep. It's okay, though. You don't really want to wake up, not yet.

You haven't been down to the city below in a while, but after standing up and taking a good look out one of the windows, it's clear that it's empty now. You remember there used to be tons of citizens, and they were all pretty friendly to you; however, they thinned out as you got older, and the dreams became farther and farther apart. Now that you're back, so many years later, you don't see a single soul. You let your hands rest against the glass, which feels oddly flexible and warm. It's like everything you touch is exactly the same temperature.

"Welcome back to Derse."

There's a voice. You turn around instantly— you specifically remember that there was no one that could speak here, so this was new.

It reminds you of that massive thing that almost snapped your head off in a dream a week or two ago before it got all big and toothy. Vague and shadow, a dark flickering form that almost resembles a human with no features, like if you photoshopped someone out of a blurry picture. But this time, the image is clearer, a little brighter. Definitely pure black, but there's a pair of eyes there, fingers and some outlines of actual clothing. Even weirder, a thick shock of white hair. It doesn't look so much like _hair_ , exactly. More like a bunch of white, wiry cotton candy hastily shoved on this thing's head, serving as eyebrows and hair. It seems male, from both the voice and the vaguely rectangular figure, but you can never be too sure.

"Who- uh..." You trail off, and you can literally feel your head spinning, making you feel dizzy as you try to directly look at it. Your hand reaches up, pressing between your eyes, shutting them tight for a moment. You can't hear the creature getting closer, but you somehow feel what seems to be exhaustion and relief simultaneously rolling off it. It's like it's pushing these feelings over you, trying to extract your own.

"I can't tell you," You hear it say nonchalantly. Its voice is what you focus on now. It's sort of hazy still, but you can hear it, so you don't think about where you are, or anything else. Just focus on one thing, and you'll remember this, you won't pass the fuck out in your own dream.

" _Good_ ," It murmurs suddenly, and it takes a lot of effort to just listen to that and nothing else. But there's sudden confidence there. It wants something, it has a plan. You sure fucking don't. So you'll listen, and follow along closely. "Good, good. Just keep doing that. Focus on me for a moment, Dave."

You don't ask how it knows your name, or how you can feel relief and calm washing over you suddenly. Is _this_ what it's like to be relaxed? Huh. For someone who fakes being chill 24/7, you gotta say that this is pretty fucking luxurious. So you keep doing what it says, since this weird shadow thing seems to know what to do.

"I'm going to tell you what I'm doing." It sounds determined, so you nod, head heavy. Let whatever this is do its thing. You haven't died yet, after all. You feel something warm on one of your hands. 

"I'm going to touch you now. Take your hand." Yeah, that's a little late, but whatever. The warmth slips between your fingers comfortably, remaining there. It reminds you of something. Of the warmth of Karkat next to you when he slept over. Of the ambiguous warmth that visits you at night. It's all good warmth. Weird, but you're quickly getting used to it. That calm is quickly draining out of you, however. This thing is touching you, your eyes are shut, you can't adequately defend yourself— _isn't that risky?_

"I'm touching your... hip. On- on the left side." The warmth blooms on your hip, quickly spreading up. You can feel your heart beat in your ears like last time, that same feeling returning. Almost panic. You kind of want to run. It _wants_ to hurt you. It's _going_ to hurt you. You breathe in deep, unable to move even if you wanted to. 

"Your waist." It keeps moving. Your waist is probably fucking glowing, that's how hot it feels. 

"Your back." Half of your body is on fire. It's a slow burn, but your heart is racing, determined to beat the fire, chasing circles around it. There's breath on your face. It's the anticipation, the fear. That's why your heart is so loud. That's why your legs are weak. That's why the hand surrounded in warmth is shaking more than a tree in a twister.

" _What are you thinking about right now, Dave?_ " It breathes, right by your ear, hot and terrifying. You can almost feel the teeth scraping together, coming back onto the shadowy figure, and you're _scared_. You hate that you're scared, there isn't even anything there, and you know this all isn't real, yet you're still _scared as fuck._

"I..." That's all you can choke out. Your body is shutting down, deciding even this thing's voice is too much, because the heat burning you up all over is distracting. 

_What are you thinking about right now?_

_What makes you feel like this?_

Your brain spits it all out in one go.

**_BrostrifeschoollaughwhisperKarkat_**.

There's a flash behind your eyes, an image you want burned into your brain, but also erased from your mind forever. _What if he kissed you? Is this what it would feel like? Would he be warm like this? How would his hand feel in yours? His lips against yours?_

And then it's all over.

You come crashing down like a meteor, every single emotion flying off in a different direction, the various mental weights you were lifting, the intensely high def environment, all of it is just gone. You take in a sharp breath, almost choking on it, carefully exhaling before opening your eyes. The shadow creature is standing in front of you, more human than ever. It's now the most clear, crisp thing in the room, about your height, white eyes just about the brightest thing on... Him. Yeah, it seems like a dude. It's easy to see the fine white hair on his arms, even the peach fuzz on his face, just because of how intense it is on the pure black of his skin and clothes. He's human, yet anything but at the same time.

"Thanks." He seems relieved. You can sort of feel him again, his warmth entirely gone, but the light push of his emotions still brushing against you, much less intense than before. 

"For what?" 

"Nothing," He says quickly, shaking his head, then glancing out the window, muttering to himself. "Fucking dammit."

"Huh?" You mumble like the brainless idiot you are, stepping over near him. He jolts away, movement fluid, but clearly not wanting to touch you. That was weird, considering he was getting all up in your personal bizniz about twenty seconds ago. Or maybe an hour ago? You aren't sure. Time isn't right here.

But as you look out the window, you see the purple kingdom is starting to crumble. Not starting, actually. It looks as though its been abandoned for several years already, decay having already taken over. This was just the end that you were seeing. The whole world seemed like it was fading away slowly, but suddenly, it's affecting your little tower, too. The imagery around you ripples at first. You can feel how annoyed your companion is, like another stroke of a paintbrush over your own emotions. You don't know how he does that, but you don't feel like asking. 

"We're out of time.." He seems to mumble, but you can't tell from how muffled all of his words are. That staticky crackle that had been a hazy cloud over his words before was now starting to make him sound like an old record. For a moment, you think he's fading again— but then you realize it's not him, it's you.

"Out of time?"

"When you go to sleep, make sure that you shut the fucking door," He interrupts.

"I always do that," You reply automatically.

"Good."

"Will you come back? Later?" There's a hint of hopefulness in your voice, and suddenly his own anger and confusion wracks through you. Is it you doing that? Making him feel that way? And why..? What did you do? You look up, suddenly distracted by the sky, which is now flashing vivid blue and orange. Your companion seems distracted too, sighing and shaking his head. 

"No."

"Why not?"

"I fucking can't. I'm not even supposed to be here, I'm supposed to just leave you alone. Bye, Dave. It's time to wake up now," He says it firmly, but his words are so crackly and seem to be getting quieter and quieter. You don't want to wake up, you want to stay here, with him. You still have so many questions. But then he seems to turn around, disappearing from your vision faster than it should be possible. The purple tower isn't even rippling anymore, the colors are darkening, desaturating to various shades of deep purple and black. It's like the whole world around you is melting into darkness, the only light and color in your vision remaining are the bright flashes in the sky, and then, even the sky seems to fade into nothingness.

There's something flashing, and you're pretty sure your eyes aren't even open. You roll over, groaning softly and letting the flashes of orange and blue disappear as you stuff your face into the pillow. Nnnngh. _No_. Back to sleep. Back to where you were.

"Get the fuck up, you little shit."

It's been so long since he bothered you with this bullshit that you don't even sleep as lightly as you used to. You don't sit up in the middle of the night, ready to go, because a branch outside cracked and fell on the street, or the door creaked. You roll back, rubbing at your eyes and shoving your shades on your face. Bro has been tossing smuppetts at your back and flicking the lights on and off for who knows how long. He'd been hanging around by the doorway ominously for what was clearly a while, but now he was stepping forwards, the light in the hallway no longer sliding over his shoulders, now drenched in darkness. He's coming closer, probably because you're sitting on your ass like an idiot instead of grabbing your sword, but you don't feel scared yet. Instinct hasn't overcome your brain yet, the gentle rolling fog of your dream still drifting comfortably around you.

Bro is saying something else. You aren't listening, but the stupor is beginning to fall away. He hits your shoulder and you don't even wince. He knocks against it again, jostling it enough to pop it out of the socket. This time your face scrunches up, clearly to his displeasure. 

"Wanna go back to sleep." You mutter mindlessly. Any other given day you would have silent got up and headed to the roof. None of this hanging around, letting him push and pull at you, wincing and showing that you feel pain when he hits you. You suddenly remember Karkat— him staying over, staying with you. _He lied_. But you knew he was lying, and it was okay. It was sort of a reverse promise. A promise to be gone in the morning, because it would be better for both of you. It doesn't mean you don't miss the warmth, gentle against your leg and the small of your back as Bro speaks again.

"Shut up and come on. If you don't hurry the fuck up, you don't get your sword."

You don't move.

You can tell he moves to hit you again, but you hear another noise, like a fistful of fabric being grabbed. Bro's breath hitches, and you can definitely hear his teeth grind together. Something shuffles down below, and there's a noise. A scraping. Something sharp, raking through flesh easy.

You aren't even sure what happens next. At some point he forces you up, your shoulder throbbing and head pounding. And then you're on the roof, hits coming at you, over and over. Today you aren't strong. Today you're _weak_. You're _always_ weak. Tears are dripping down your face, and he really doesn't like that. It's all coming to you in flashes as he holds you up by your shirt, teeth gritted and a sneer on his face. Your brain seems to have gone back and edited your memory, only letting brief glimpses through the cracks again. You'll probably forget all of this within the next hour anyways.

"If you pull that shit again, I'll rip your fuckin' vocal cords out and tell 'em you did it to yourself," He hissed before dropping you back down. You hear him throwing his hat onto the ground and the loud door to the roof shutting. You can see a matching set of three gashes down his ankle, poking holes in the fabric of his pants, blood trickling down to his shoes. Ha. Maybe there's an angry cat lurking in your room, looking out for you. Or maybe whatever is under your bed is... _aware_.

You stay laying there for a while.

And you end up deciding you aren't going to go to school for a little while.

* * *

One day after not going to school, you don't think Bro has even noticed yet. No new texts. Nothing.

You don't care. You sit in your room, ice in a ziploc bag pressed to your shoulder, the rest of your wounds decidedly unimportant for the moment. You watch some bad TV shows you downloaded onto your phone. 

* * *

Two days after not going to school, you get two texts. Double whammy, haha. The stupid joke makes you smile as you hear your phone buzz the second time. You don't check it anyways.

You consider going down the street to hang out at the pharmacy. At least Scratch told decent jokes.

You don't end up leaving the house. You're getting kind of hungry, but you find a box of Kraft mac 'n cheese in the cabinet and make that. You feel a little better. You still aren't going back.

* * *

Three days after not going to school, you get more texts and check your phone. There are five messages from Karkat. One each from Jade and John. There are a couple from Rose. She's here, at Roxy's. She asked when she could see you, and then if it was okay for her to come over.

You don't respond to any of them.

You feel bad about it anyways.

* * *

It's a full week of not going to school that gets real attention. You know Bro has probably gotten a call from the school, but you also know the only calls he answers are the ones from the weirdos that give him money from his weird ass porn site.

There are a bunch of texts you haven't even opened. You do leave the house today just so you don't even have to look at them. You end up walking around the block fourteen times. It's probably good, you got some exercise, breathed something more than the stale air of the apartment. You see some kids that go to your school on the fourteenth time around, and immediately turn around and head back in the direction of the apartment. Nope. Not today.

* * *

Monday comes, and there's a knock on your door, and you have seventy four notifications.

You don't leave your room once.

* * *

GG: dave?

GG: hey dave, i don't normally message anyone this much

GG: mostly because it's really really annoying!

GG: but you haven't been to school in a while??

GG: and it seems like no one has heard from you??

GG: if you're sick just tell us!

GG: we miss you

GG: come back soon, okay?

GG: :)

EB: daaaave.

EB: dude.

EB: okay, dave, seriously, what is going on.

EB: you seemed fine when we last saw you?

EB: you were having a good time with all the alternia junior high kids and everything!

EB: and then you totally just disappeared.

EB: i'm just kind of worried, man.

EB: message me when you can, okay?

EB: dave.

EB: dave, please, dude.

EB: are you okay?

GA: Hello Dave

GA: I Do Not Really Know You Very Well

GA: However I Know Your Sister

GA: It's Weird So I Won't Bother Explaining It

GA: Anyways

GA: I Know Karkat As Well

GA: And He Cares For You Very Much

GA: We Would All Like If You Returned To School

GA: Your Sudden Absence Has Been Very Much Noticed

GA: Um

GA: That Is All

TT: Dave.

TT: Why am I suddenly hearing from a variety of people that seem to be your friends?

TT: And why are they saying you haven't been to school for over a week?

TT: Dave, answer me.

TT: Or them, at the least.

TT: They are all very concerned.

TT: I'm concerned, too.

TT: Roxy has been very vague about your current situation.

TT: But she seems to believe she will be able to get you to come live with us.

TT: It might be temporary, but it might be permanent.

TT: Dave?

TT: For fuck's sake. Fine.

TT: Message somebody soon.

TT: If not me, somebody.

TT: Anybody.

CG: DAVE.

CG: DAVE

CG: DAVE

CG: DAVE DAVE DAVE.

CG: GOD, I'M SO FUCKING BORED.

CG: THERE'S NOTHING TO DO IN ANY OF MY CLASSES, THEY'RE ALL SO FUCKING BORING.

CG: COME BACK.

CG: DAVE I SWEAR TO GOD 

CG: TODAY I BOUGHT FOUR MILKS FROM THE CAFETERIA AND MIXED THEM WITH REDBULL.

CG: PRETTY SURE I JUST EXPERIENCED A WHOLE ASS FUCKING ANEURYSM AT SEVENTEEN.

CG: DAVE?

CG: DAVE. DAVE, DAVE DAVE.

CG: DAVE MOTHERFUCKING STRIDER.

CG: I DON'T EVEN CARE IF YOU READ THESE OR NOT.

CG: I'M SENDING THEM ANYWAYS.

CG: BECAUSE YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE FUCKING DOING.

CG: HOW MUCH OF A JACKASS YOU'RE BEING.

CG: YOU HAVEN'T BEEN TO SCHOOL FOR TWO WEEKS.

CG: TWO

CG: FUCKING

CG: WEEKS

CG: AND NOT A SINGLE PERSON HAS GOTTEN ANY SORT OF CONTACT FROM YOU OR SEEN YOU.

CG: DAVE. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU.

CG: EVERYONE IS WORRIED AS SHIT.

CG: THE TEACHERS AREN'T EVEN CALLING YOUR NAME FOR ATTENDANCE ANYMORE.

CG: DAVE?

CG: DAVE I'M SO FUCKING WORRIED.

CG: PLEASE MESSAGE ME BACK.

CG: OR AT LEAST READ THESE. PLEASE. FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

CG: DAVE

CG: DAVE PLEASE.

CG: ... DAVE?

CG: DAVE, ARE YOU THERE?

CG: HEY DAVE.

CG: IT'S BEEN ALMOST THREE WEEKS.

CG: I SPENT ALL OF ART CLASS STARING OUT THE WINDOW.

CG: I MISS HEARING YOUR VOICE.

CG: I MISS YOUR STUPID JOKES.

CG: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE COME BACK.

CG: I'M GETTING REALLY SCARED, OKAY?

CG: NO ONE HAS HEARD FROM YOU.

CG: I HAVEN'T EVEN BEEN ABLE TO

CG: I

CG: I JUST HAVEN'T GONE SO LONG WITHOUT SEEING YOU AND

CG: DAVE, I REALLY MISS YOU.

CG: IS THIS ABOUT WHEN I CAME OVER?

CG: ARE YOU MAD AT ME?

CG: IT'S FINE IF YOU ARE. WHAT FUCKING EVER.

CG: JUST... MESSAGE US BACK PLEASE?

CG: I DON'T EVEN CARE HOW STUPID I SEEM SENDING THIS SHIT ANYMORE

CG: YOU'RE NOT EVEN READING THEM, SO WHAT DOES IT MATTER.

CG: I MISS YOU.

CG: I MISS YOU SO FUCKING MUCH.

CG: I'VE NEVER HAD A FRIEND LIKE YOU.

CG: I CAN'T FOCUS AND I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU ALL THE TIME.

CG: I WISH I DIDN'T LEAVE THAT MORNING.

CG: I WISH I STAYED.

CG: I WISH YOU WOULD JUST TELL ME.

CG: TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON. TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOU. STOP PRETENDING THAT YOU AREN'T HURTING.

CG: I SAW WHAT HE DID

CG: PLEASE PLEASE MESSAGE ME BACK.

TG: come over please

TG: right now

TG: window

You don't get a message back. You thank him for that.

You've had the door locked for days. The windows have been shut tight, curtains drawn, lights all on since you and Bro strifed. It's probably about three in the afternoon now, but you aren't really sure anymore. Time has sort of lost its meaning recently. You get about an hour of sleep each night, and then get up to eat something. You can't even remember why you stopped going to school, just that you don't want to go back. The days have slipped away from you so fast, it feels like trying keep water in your hands when you think back over the past few weeks. You don't even remember most of it.

There's a knock on the window before you even know in. You've been laying on your bed, earbuds in. You haven't really mixed anything lately, but you were listening to some of your older stuff on repeat to distract yourself. It takes you a minute to even get up, and you sigh, dropping your earbuds onto the bed after ripping them out of your ears. You lazily unlatch the window, and a small bundle of energy jumps down from the window sill and basically tackles you onto the bed.

You make a strangled noise because Karkat is kind of strangling you. He's wearing a backpack, but it tumbles to the ground. What day is it? Is it Friday? Maybe he just left school for this. You don't really care, which isn't great, but he's here.

You speak first. You definitely owe it to him, even with your fucked up, unused voice. It's been a while since you've actually talked to anyone. " 'M sorry." God that sounds fucking terrible. Also, his arms are around your neck, still kind of choking you.

"Yeah," Karkat says after a minute. "I know you are, you absolute nookwhiffing bulgesucking panless moron, I can't fucking believe this shit." He finally released you, sitting up on his knees, panting softly with just a hint of a smile. He pushes you back onto the bed, arms wrapping under yours this time, squeezing your chest tight. 

It's not exactly like your dream, but your heart is pounding the exact same way.

And maybe.

Maybe that isn't so bad.

Maybe the fear is _good_.

Because you're starting to like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, a known liar and dumbass: guys i swear there will be other characters in this chapter  
> Anyone reading this shit: yeah sure whatever u say 
> 
> I PINKY PROMISE SOME ANTAGONISTIC SHIT. I considered karkat going 1/4 feral on bro vaguely making an antagonist. Idk. I get too into the fluff. 
> 
> Soon though.
> 
> Honk honk buckle up bitches


	6. why do you care for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Karkat and kanaya, desperately looking at their pocket alternian to english translation guide) 🎶don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious 🎶

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AaaaaaAAAH this chapter gave me a lot of grief. I had some serious terezi wrangling. She is a handful.
> 
> Anyways. Get ready for some new characters. One of them is pretty openly talked about. Honk honk. But the other had just a teeny tiny mention. 
> 
> Buckle up for FAMILY ANGST
> 
> Also, come find me on [tumblr](https://velvet-and-shortchanged.tumblr.com)! harass me outside of ao3 comments.

You and Karkat talk for a while.

You decide that it's okay to tell him some things. Not everything, obviously. You aren't going to tell him everything you know Bro has done, and definitely not the things you suspect he's done. You aren't going to talk about your last year at school, or how you almost got hypothermia last year because you didn't have a coat and Bro pushed you into the pool at your old apartment. You tell him about Rose, though, and Roxy, and their mom, who is technically your mom too. You don't talk about Dirk. There's no point in that. You try your hardest not to think about him or where he is now. Karkat listens. He's a surprisingly good listener. He does a lot of talking, and a lot of ranting, and he's angry almost all the time, but he cares about people. And somehow, you got fucking lucky enough for him to seem like he cares about you. It's refreshing as hell to be able to talk to someone who will just sit and listen. You feel bad at times like he's playing unpaid therapist, but before you can even your mouth to say anything each time the thought crosses your mind, his eyes narrow and he holds a gaze that could freeze the heart of literally anyone. The first thing he asks is a question you don't like.

"Why hasn't anyone done anything about all this," Karkat asked it flatly, looking a mix between confused and hurt. The way he said it, it sounded almost as though he already knew the answer, but he would do anything to find a different one. But he hadn't known about any of this, so it's not like he's had a hand in your shitty ass childhood. And if he did, you wouldn't care. It doesn't matter. No one has done anything because _it doesn't matter_. You're fine. You're alive. You've only got a couple of years left until you can escape. Probably not to college, you don't have any money, but somewhere. _Anywhere_.

"No one gives a shit about me, dude. And it's not like it's even that bad, I could have it worse."

"Shut up. Shut up _right now_." His face turns into such a glare that you start to fear for your life. His brown eyes seem to flicker gold-yellow, and while there isn't any wind in the room, his curls toss themselves around a bit. You can see his fists curl up tight, and his shittily painted black nails clearly dig into his skin, almost tearing it. You try to ignore it all and shove the images into your mental "Weird Karkat Shit" folder. It's something like seven gigabytes by now. Karkat does a lot of weird shit.

"I can't fucking _believe_ you. Why the hell do you think I'm here? _I_ care about you, you absolutely idiotic fuckwad, and so do all of your friends. The rest of your friends, I mean." Karkat shakes his head after correcting himself. "And don't you fucking _dare_ say it could be worse. There's _always_ someone who has it worse. But that doesn't fucking mean you deserve to be in this shitty situation or that you don't deserve a way out of it. God, I can't fucking _believe_ you've _deluded_ yourself into this-"

"Why does it even matter? Why do you give a shit about me, anyway?" You ask suddenly, voice turning defensive instantly.

_Wrong choice._

Karkat's whole face immediately drops, and it looks like you stabbed him in the chest. You aren't sure what it is about what you said— you had really started to wonder that, anyways. Why _did_ he care about you? What the hell was he gaining out of this dysfunctional ass relationship? All you've done is talk about yourself and throw the biggest Dave Strider Pity Party of the year, and he's put up with it and carried your emotional baggage like the world's best hotel butler. It seems like you were exhausting him. Whenever he came over, he was always insanely tired by the end of the night and gone by the morning.

"Because I lo..." He paused, trailing off and shaking his head again. He seems to correct himself a lot. "Because I couldn't live with myself if I had to keep seeing you getting hurt. Because I like you. Just fucking _because_ ," Karkat answered finally, voice firm and strong.

You don't say anything back.

It's quiet for a while.

"So... What now?" Karkat asks softly, breaking the silence and staring at the ceiling of your bedroom. You've been just laying on your bed together, not really talking for a couple of minutes now. It wasn't even that the lull in conversation was bad, it was just what it was. There hadn't been anything more to say.

"What do you mean?" You turned your head to look at him, and instead of focusing on what he was saying, you just watched his lips move, how they were kind of a soft pink-brown color, how he didn't have a single freckle on his face, the slightly washed out caramel of his skin, how his black hair curled over into his eyes a little..

"Dave??"

"Fuck, sorry, what?" You blinked, pushing up your shades to rub your eyes. Karkat shoots you an insincere glare for not paying attention and staring at his face like a creep. It's easy to get lost in his features. "I asked what you're going to do. About Rose and Roxy. Rose is already here, she arrived about a week ago-"

"Wait, how do you know that? I didn't say she was here yet, dude." You squinted at him. How did he know that? Sometimes you wonder if he's been stalking you. Karkat knows all this random shit about you and the people around you, and can never explain how. It's the most personal of things, too— where you keep certain supplies you use to patch yourself up, that spot on your shoulder that always aches, how you like your blankets pulled up right to your shoulders no matter the temperature. Little things he shouldn't know. Little things nobody should know. He clearly blanks right now, shaking his hand and waving you off with his hand. "Mutual friend."

" _Dude_."

"Kanaya knows her!"

"Okay, but still. You seem to know all this shit and won't really explain how? Or... It's just something you shouldn't know. Like... You knew that Bro got a cut on his left arm." Okay, baiting is unfair. But you just want to see.

"Left _leg_ ," He corrected immediately. Karkat's ears turned a sightly maroon red, visible behind the dark curls immediately. You raised your eyebrows pointedly, and he opened his mouth to protest, but you spoke before he got the chance.

"How did you know that," You deadpan, face going completely neutral. How does he know this shit? It's starting to get weird. Everything is starting to get weird, and you don't have a single fucking explanation for any of it. Your whole life has been weird, sure, but that doesn't explain the bizarre empty feeling in your chest, or the warmth that's been passing over you as you sleep, or even whatever weird fucking being is your new, unknown yet hella agro roommate. You've been having bizarre dreams. Something is definitely _off_ in the house. Bro has been gone way too frequently. Rose is coming back. Everything is just so _weird_. You'd kill for one tiny explanation.

"I... It was just a guess."

"Karkat."

"I just _do_!"

Silence sits between the two of you for the second time that night.

You're not sure if you want an explanation at this point. Whatever he says might just make things weirder. And your life has its fill of weirdness for now. Weird, weird, weird, weird, _weird_.

"Look, maybe you should go," You suggested meekly, rubbing the back of your neck and rolling over on the bed, facing away from him. You could feel him sitting up, the bed creaking as he reached out, probably to touch your back or shoulder, but he doesn't. He knows how you hate that kind of shit going on when you can't see him.

"Wait, I didn't mean to-"

"You should go." Your voice is firm now, despite being muffled by the pillow.

"Dave, you literally _just_ fucking started talking to people again-"

"It doesn't matter, you-"

" ** _Dave_**." There's something about the way he says it that shakes you to your core, some kind of weird reverberation behind the syllables. It makes you shut your own mouth immediately, arms tensing up. He can probably tell he spoke too loudly, as he murmurs an apology and pauses for a brief moment before continuing patiently. "I'm not leaving until you tr- message Rose to say you're going to go see her."

That's... Not what you expected.

You told him about her because... Well, you aren't totally sure why you told him about Rose and Roxy and their mom. Maybe as a reassurance? That you didn't have to stay here forever, at least. That you had somewhere to go if things actually got worse. Because things weren't too bad right now. Bro's been gone for days, and before that, you'd only been strifing a couple of times a week. He hadn't come home drunk in the middle of the night, waking you up in the absolute worst fucking way, in nearly a month. Him being absent completely was so much easier than actually dealing with Bro's bullshit. So there was no need, not right now, at least.

You shake your head insistently, sitting up and turning back to face him. The edges of his arms kind of flicker oddly, something bizarrely dark like smoke slipping around his sweater for half a second, and when you blink, it's gone. It's that kind of thing that confuses you a little, but you figure you're sleep deprived. "Dude, no. She probably doesn't even want to talk to me, and she's definitely asleep by now—"

"Don't bother with the fucking excuses, but if you give an actual, sensible reason that isn't driven by the ball of jittery anxiety and stupidity that is your brain, then maybe I'll back off." The crease between Karkat's eyebrows deepens.

"I don't want to."

"Bad reason."

"She's probably asleep," You repeated.

He considers it for a moment before shrugging and rubbing at his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. You're probably right. And I'm tired as shit. And you need to sleep, for sure. But you're going to send her a message in the morning. I'm making sure of it, you bitchbaby." Karkat gave you a smirk that makes your knees go weak, and he reaches around to his side and smacks the light switch on the table lamp that had been lighting up the room. "Go to bed, Dave."

* * *

You dream of his hands in your hair, his hands on your back, his hands everywhere.

You feel bad about it when you wake up, and he's gone again.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began ~~trolling~~ pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 06:28.

CG: HEY.

CG: DID YOU FUCKING SEND ROSE A WHATEVER YET?

CG: A MESSAGE.

CG: ENGLISH IS HARD.

TG: jesus fuck it is too early for this shit

turntechGodhead [TG] is offline.

CG: DAVE, FUCKING MESSAGE HER.

CG: YOU NEED TO DO IT.

CG: I'LL EVEN MAKE YOU ANOTHER BANNER FOR THIS SHIT.

CG: USING MSPAINT.

CG: I CANNOT BELIEVE I'M ACTUALLY OFFERING TO BRIBE YOU TO TALK TO YOUR HATCH-SIBLING-THING.

turntechGodhead [TG] is online.

CG: WERE YOU JUST FUCKING HOVERING UNTIL I OFFERED SOMETHING?

TG: im a savvy businessman karkat

TG: gotta bring in the bucks

CG: SHUT UP AND GO DO WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is offline.

TG: rude

You sit, staring at your screen, writing and rewriting for about six minutes until your phone bings anyways.

tentacleTherapist [TT] has begun pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 6:39.

TT: Dave, I believe I've watched you spending seven and a quarter minutes attempt to write me a message.

TT: And while I wholeheartedly appreciate your generally lowbrow try at this, I think I can take it from here.

TT: 1451 Northeast Killingsworth. Room 474.

TT: I hope to see you there after you finish school today.

TT: I am currently finishing up the quarter online, however, I will be transferring in soon.

TT: Prepare yourself for my sisterly wrath.

tentacleTherapist [TT] is offline.

Man, everybody is totally just leaving you in the dust today.

TG: okay i did it you ass

TG: you owe me

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is online.

CG: FUCKING _FINALLY_.

CG: I'LL SEND YOU ANOTHER ONE OF MY MASTERPIECES ASAP.

TG: good

TG: hey

TG: thanks or whatever

CG: GENUINE EMOTION?

CG: ACTUAL APPRECIATION FOR MY TALENTS???

CG: I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE THE FUCKING DAY WHERE THIS HAPPENS.

TG: shut up

turntechGodhead [TG] is offline.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased ~~trolling~~ pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 7:01.

* * *

On your first day back at school in nearly a month, everyone purposely tries not to make a big deal about it. No one asks where you were. You get a couple of suspicious looks from teachers and other random kids you've never talked to in your life, but you really don't care at all. Because your friends are here. Jade gives you a lung-busting hug, and John insists you come to film club with him today since they're having a lunch meeting. Even some of the Alternia Junior High kids pay attention to you (you don't know why you're still calling them that— it's probably just because they almost seem like their own group), mainly Terezi giving you a stab with her cane, and Kanaya greeting you with a warm smile.

After seeing Kanaya in the hallway, you chase after her and put a hand on her shoulder. She turns, looking somewhat startled, or maybe she just didn't expect to see you. "Hey, where's Karkat?" You ask her. She chews on her lip for a brief second, picking at something on her nails.

"He's probably taking a day off. It's not unusual for him, as I'm sure you know now. What with his affliction. Typically, I would take a bright day such as today off as well, but I happen to be giving a tour to a new student."

Before you can even think to ask about Karkat again, you get whiplash from how fast your brain switches focus. "New student? _Rose_?" You ask immediately, raising your eyebrows above your shades. The bell rings. You're going to be late. Kanaya seems surprised again. "Yes, actually. Her name is Rose Lalonde. And... Oh, yes, she's your... sister, isn't she?"

"How does everyone know that?" You grumble. Kanaya's cheeks turn a pallid greyish pink.

"...we share a mutual friend," She supplied quickly. Mutual friend? Isn't that what Karkat—

She interrupted your train of thought, speaking quickly before you could ask anything else. "I really must be going. I'll speak to you again at a later date, Dave." With that, she was gone. The halls were nearly empty as the late bell rang, leaving you standing with your backpack slung over your shoulder a million more questions.

* * *

You sit through Calc with your leg jiggling anxiously. You can't focus on this bullshit you're never going to use right now. Taking out your phone, you lean it up against the back of your desk. You need some fucking answers.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 11:17.

TG: rose

TG: i need you to answer some shit

TG: get out your fucking crystal ball babe

TG: i need professional help

TG: ie a sixteen-year-old psychic bitch who messages me once a year to tell me that im going to lose seventy bucks on my birthday

TT: I can't control the tarot cards, Dave. That was simply a little insight for your narrow, vanilla mind.

TG: the ropes in the back of my closet would tell you otherwise

TT: It only took you forty two seconds to mention something kinky. That's a new record.

TG: i cant help it rosey posey im just a sexy bastard who enjoys voyeurism in the form of telling everyone around me what goes on behind semi-closed, unlocked bedroom doors

TT: Just go ahead and send the link to your Pornhub biography to the whole school, I think that could do the trick.

TT: I believe you had a question for me.

TG: im the new cytherea baby

TT: Who?

TG: squirting legend rose

TG: god

TG: i cant believe you dont know who cytherea is

TG: shes a fucking pioneer of the water bottle squirt

TT: Dave.

TT: Please calm your vaguely Freudian antics for ten seconds so you can ask me whatever you want to fucking ask me.

TG: oh yea

TG: how do you know kanaya

TT: How do you know Kanaya?

TG: mutual friend

TT: Mutual friend.

TG: if one more fucking person says that im kicking everyones ass

TT: Kanaya's mother runs the tattoo parlor beside the apartment building that Roxy and I are staying in.

TG: oh okay

TG: she knew you were my sister

TT: Dave, I never told her that I have a brother.

TG: wait what

TG: she said

TG: fuck whatever

TT: How do you know Kanaya, exactly?

TG: kanaya knows karkat and i like karkat

TT: Karkat?

TG: i like him

TG: we hang out sometimes

TT: Intimate.

TG: fuck off

TT: Hm, defensive, are we?

TT: Is the nature of your relationship something more, perhaps?

TG: no

TT: Is it, Dave?

TG: well are you in lesbians with kanaya

TT: Don't change the subject.

TT: And, no.

TT: We're simply...

TG: a pair of flighty broads getting up in each others respective grills

TT: Classy.

TT: I'll talk to you after school, Dave.

TT: No lesbian-ing to Kanaya.

TG: what does that even mean

tentacleTherapist [TT] is offline.

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 11:35.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by smoother than you expected that it would. You do your work. At lunch, your friends check up on you as casually as they can. You appreciate it, but brush them all off for the most part. You've all taken to sitting out in the courtyard with the Alternia kids, who are quick to crack jokes and pretend like you'd never left.

But something is... Off. You aren't sure what it is. You're never sure, though. But Terezi, your favorite resident blind girl, is jittery, quiet, whispering to Vriska constantly, and not in the fun gossipy way they always do. Something is definitely up. You toss a chip at her shoulder. She flinches, head turning four different directions before vaguely near you.

"Was that you, Strider?" Her teasing grin is significantly less full than it was the last time you saw her, not showing off all of her oddly pointy teeth. Maybe something happened while you were gone.

"Yeah. It's real hard to get your attention nowadays. You better not forget me when you get rich, Pyrope."

She snickers and shakes her head.

"What's with you and the Blue Pirate gettin' all secretive on us, now?" You lean across the table, propping your elbows up on the hard plastic and wiggling your eyebrows. "C'mon, let me in on it. I'll take an oath of silence if I gotta."

Terezi sighed, twirling a piece of hair around her fingers. "It's nothing, coolkid."

"Sure as hell don't sound like nothin'."

She elbows Vriska, who had been talking to Jade, and then jerks her head in your general direction. Vriska gives a solemn nod, returning to her conversation like nothing had happened. Clearly whatever the hell was going on here was something serious. Or, well, serious between them.

"Someone who used to go to our school is transferring over here. Who isn't someone we like. We being me. And Vriska. And everyone with a _functional_ brain, and that's only about half the group." Terezi glances around to the rest of the kids in the courtyard. Yeah, she kind of has a point. You'd talked to most of them by now anyway, some of them weren't the brightest. The only thing going on behind those eyes is elevator music.

"Isn't it too late for a transfer?" It's a random question, and although the same could be asked of Rose, you knew her situation. Spontaneously moving was a whole different thing.

"He got his ass kicked to the curb by whatever school he was at before. Unsurprisingly," She mutters.

Huh.

"What's so bad about him?"

" _Everything_ ," Vriska and Terezi both say in unison solemnly.

The bell rings again. People chatter as they clean up their stuff, and you sit and think for a minute, fingers drumming on the table as Terezi and Vriska leave you in the dust. You watch as they walk away, not even an inch apart as they turn the corner. Lunch is over, and while you've just been let in on a small piece of gossip, it feels like you've just opened Pandora's fucking box.

* * *

The rest of the day is such a blur, you feel like you blinked and it was over. Class, class, class. Check your phone, class. Ring, the day was over. You're standing outside of the school, watching kids filter out, phone in hand. Just kind of awkwardly waiting. You aren't sure how to work up the courage to actually go and see Rose. The address is typed into your phone, you can walk there. It's already late November, and the sun is going to be setting soon. Your foot taps anxiously on the ground, you chew your lip.

_You don't know if you can do it._

_You don't know if you can see her_.

In order to distract yourself, you send Karkat a bunch of messages.

TG: yo nerd

TG: karkles

TG: karkat

TG: whats up man

TG: where were you today

TG: just wondering cause i didnt see you

TG: anyways some guy from your school is coming here

TG: transferring cause he got kicked out

TG: tz and vriska aint happy

TG: do you know him

"Dave!"

John slings an arm around your shoulder, startling you out of your reverie. He does this a lot. You muster up a grin, but it could never match a gleeful Egbert smile. God, he's just so fucking happy all the time. You don't know how he does it.

"What's up, man," You ask as casually as you can, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

"Film club again! Jake wants to watch Jurassic Park, and he brought the Blu-Ray player. We didn't get to at lunch because the room was being used. He's also bringing some friend from MIT who knows about tech stuff, you should stay!"

You falter, swallowing and thinking. You could stay. You could watch a movie with John and the rest of the geeks.

"Oh, wait, Kanaya said you were meeting your sister! Duh." John answered for you, swooping in before you could even say yes. He shook his head, squeezing your shoulder gently and giving a big grin anyways. "Next time, man. I always forget you have a sister!"

"Yeah. She's weird."

John snorted. "Tell me about it. Jane is super weird. Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" He sounded so hopeful. Making sure, checking in in the John way that he does.

"Yeah," You reply softly, nodding. "Totally. Save some Goldblum dino action for me, bro."

He somehow smiles even wider, nodding back. "Totally."

He's running to get in his dad's car not even three seconds later. God, that kid. You shake your head, running a hand through your hair, take out your phone and glance at the address.

_We're doing this thing, man._

_We're making this hapen._

* * *

You're immediately intimidated when you walk in the apartment building Roxy and Rose are staying in.

It's big and shiny and nice and definitely expensive. There's someone who opens the door for you but can definitely tell you don't belong. You stand in the lobby for a minute. You know that their mom is rich, and that Roxy is a fancy coder now, but damn. You feel insanely out of place in your three-year-old jeans and ratty converse, paired with the record shirt you bought from Goodwill on a splurge. Yeah.

_Exactly._

You walk over to the elevator, press the floor number, and wait.

You can feel the lady with red-framed glasses that was standing behind the desk staring into your back.

The elevator bell dings and you get on. There's no one else here, but it feels like someone's going to ask you to pay to breath here. There's a nervous buzz in you as you wait for the elevator as it climbs floors. You wish your building had an elevator. Or that you didn't live on the ninth floor. Either would be nice.

The bell dings again, and you get off. Room number 474. It's one of the first few on the left, and you knock.

Even after waiting for a moment, there isn't any answer. You try the doorknob, and the door swings open with ease. The second you walk in, you're hit with a wave of sour grape. The whole room smells intensely of alcohol. Not beer or anything sweet, but serious red wine. There's a splotch of it on the carpet in front of you, and two bottles sitting opened on the counter.

" _Daaaaave_?"

Rose wandered out of what you assume is her room, half-empty glass in hand, a black shawl draped around her shoulders. Fuck, she looks just like your mom now, the last time you saw her, she was just a pretty girl with a blonde bob. She's let her hair grow out a little, it's almost at her shoulders now, and she definitely looks older, taller, though you're certainly taller than her now.

And she does not look sober.

"... Rose, are you fucking _drunk_?"

She gave a long, long laugh. A _way_ too long laugh. Rose waved her hand, and she almost lost her balance from that alone. "Daaave. Don't be _ridiculous_. I- I've sim'bly... Just.." She trailed off, laughing again at absolutely nothing. Rose lumbered forwards, holding her arms out with a dopey smile, crashing onto you and almost knocking you over. She smells like wine. You can't believe this.

"I don't even know why I fucking try," You mutter, shaking your head, pushing her off you. Rose stumbled over to the counter next to the wine bottles, giving you an enthusiastic wave. God. You knew her mom had a serious problem, and that Roxy had issues in the past, but Rose? She's your age. How could she have already gotten sucked into this shit. How does she even get all this wine?

Fuck, you can't deal with her right now.

 _Definitely_ not drunk.

"I'll see you at school, Rose."

She doesn't say anything else, just stares off into space as you walked out. You shut the door loudly behind you, and you can hear the little golden knocker rattle against the wood as you ran down the stairs. No elevator. You just want to go to your room and go to sleep.

What you really want to do is see Karkat.

You aren't going to bother him, though.

_He's probably fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written karkat and kanaya as having trouble using human terminology, and everyone else in the group gets it easily, they're just fucking incapable gays. Terezi says brain without even thinking, and karkat doesn't remember what a sister is.
> 
> Look at me, introducing more antagonists. Everyone is about to have a bad time. Especially karkat. Now things get better for dave and worse for karkat. Also... Dave is the most oblivious person in the world so far but he's starting to notice things. Weird things.  
> Hmmm.
> 
> Thank you all for your support!!!!!! This is now my most popular and longest fic. Stick around for more angst and karkat being a top.
> 
> (also i know cytherea the porn star from when i listened to shane dawnson's podcast on the bus in 2015. so. The More You Know.)


	7. when we all fall asleep...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pt 1/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when we all fall asleep, where do we go?
> 
> ((TW FOR SEXUAL ABUSE ON THIS ONE. BIG TW. NOT EXPLICIT BUT IT IS THERE.)
> 
> edit: Ao3 not eat my pesterlog formatting challenge

Another day passes, and Karkat has not returned to school.

You don’t really know what to make of it at first. _Was it your fault? Were you being too pushy before?_ There’s at least one whole day that you spend thinking, thinking, thinking. Trying to dig at your past actions, find the mistake and pluck it out with tweezers. You already messaged him, and he didn’t even open the texts. Maybe he’s just sick? It’s been getting colder, but not that cold. He seemed frail and tired the last time you saw him- but to be fair, the guy looks like he needs to eat a sandwich and take a fuckin’ nap all the time anyways. Classes seem to pass slower than you thought possible. There’s something inescapably boring about school when your best friend isn’t there.

( _Best friend best friend best friend_ , your heart chants.)

( _A dude you know who you’re not super crazy about because you can be friends with guys but only friends because if you like them, then they’ll leave you forever,_ your instincts respond.)

No one else seems all too bothered by his absence at first. Except for you, of course. You miss his hoarse, throaty laugh, and his secretive smiles and affectionate glares. You miss him so fucking much, honestly. You mention it in passing to Terezi, who seems to momentarily blank and then cackle about something unrelated. The only person with any kind of reaction is Kanaya.

You’ve been spending more time with her lately. Admittedly, you were kind of being a douche in the beginning, thinking she was just some weird chick who wore a lot of dark makeup. And then, after the incident with Rose, you made a decision to see what Kanaya knew about her. Totally not encouraging their lesbian-ing or anything. Rose would be able to tell if you did anyways. But really, she was seemingly well connected to both Karkat and Rose, and that could be pretty fucking useful at the moment.

“Has she been in contact with you at all since you last saw her?” Kanaya asked slowly, turning the page of a somewhat ratty old book. The two of you are in the library, supposedly working on a partner project. You’ve been playing Geometry Dash for forty-five minutes, and Kanaya has been paging through her own homemade lookbook and scribbling small, neat notes in her looping cursive scrawl.

“I don’t even know. I think Roxy left me a message, but I haven’t really checked. I’m lowkey pissed at her. I finally get to see my fucking sister, and she’s hammered? Like, what the fuck.” You sighed, tapping your fingers over the keyboard of your old laptop. Kanaya doesn’t respond for a moment. Probably choosing her words carefully here.

You can’t blame her. You’re still pissed.

“She has not contacted me either. Are you aware of the date she is returning to school?” 

“Tomorrow.”

Kanaya looked from her book, a small square of some black lace in her hand. “ _Tomorrow_?” Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks looked almost green, like she was about to be sick.

“Yeah. End of the quarter.”

She sighed, shaking her head and twisting a piece of hair around her finger. She held up the square of lace, along with a long strip of something shimmery and pink. 

“Dave? Is she pleased with the color pink?”

You glanced up from the keyboard of your computer, looking from her earnest face to the fabric samples. You stole a quick glance down at the book- there’s something long and elegant, with a corded belt and stripes, and a deep scoop in the neckline.

You grinned. “She’s more into purple.”

Kanaya looked sheepish, pressing the samples back into place and making more tiny notes. You drummed your pencil on the corner of the table for a moment before pausing, pursing your lips and looking back up to Kanaya again.

“Hey, where’s Karkat been?”

She blinks, looking down at her book and turning the pages almost absently. There’s just the sound of papers flipping and fabric settling softly over the sheets.. She stares at a drawing of a long white dress with some blue symbol on it for a long time, thinking.

“... he has some family matters to account for at the present moment.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“That sounds like bullshit, ‘Naya.”

She sighed, a small puff of air, lips pursed in a neat pout.

“I do not believe he would be at peace with me informing you of his business.”

“Was that Kanaya speak for ‘fuck off’?”

Her subtle smirk makes you understand why a snarky chick like Rose is head over heels for this gal.

“Wow. Nice. C’mon, Kan, I’m worried about him. He ghosted my ass, went full Casper on me, floating around the house and knocking shit over, translucent piece of-”

“ _Dave_.” She interrupted you. “Karkat is concerned with several things at the moment. He wishes to return soon, as he quite enjoys your company and does in fact care for you, but there are certain matters that you just wouldn’t understand. They’re… rather _dark_ in nature.”

“The hell does that mean?”

Kanaya stood up, holding her book to her chest in a very final way, quietly pushing in her chair with a slight squeak across the floor. Her eyes seemed to gleam, and her gaze was even more intense than usual.

“It means there are some things that you cannot see, Dave.

“And maybe it’s _better_ that you can’t.”

Her little black boots clacked on the floor, the door shutting almost silently behind her as she left.

It felt like there were still a pair of eyes on you.

* * *

You sometimes forget that Bro even exists.

Some part of your brain, closed off with dark, tall gates, has been protecting you all this time. Shoving your thoughts anywhere else they could fit, just so you didn't wonder where he is. What he’s doing. He didn’t leave you any money, or any food. Just fucking disappeared. Honestly, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise anymore. You’re never able to predict him or his priorities. He bought you a set of expensive, quality turntables and mixing equipment for your twelfth birthday, but you’ve been wearing the same pair of shoes for four years, and the only clothes that fit you now were the ones that you’ve stolen from your friends or snatched from the lost and found.

But he buys you a new pair of shades every year anyways.

From past experience, you can guess he’s at a porn convention, or travelling on business for who knows how fucking long. It’s probably been more than a month since he’s been here. 

You lost track long ago, and stopped caring around the same time.

After all, he doesn’t want you to care.

But that’s probably why you freeze up when you see a hat and a pair of keys on the table. Your brain kickstarts, adrenaline immediately shooting through your veins, every single sense heightened in preparation. _He's here. He's here_. There’s shuffling in the bathroom.

Don’t breathe.

_He might hear you._

You tiptoe over to the fridge, pause, and duck before opening it. There’s a whizzing above your head and a flash of metal in the corner of your vision- probably shaving off a bit of the hair on top of your head. You hear something stick into the wall behind you. Ninja stars again.

There’s two beers sitting in the fridge.

You don't have much time. He's here and he'll hurt you worse because it's been so long. Even though your legs feel heavy like steel attached to your torso and you know he's faster than you, you're small and quick and you can do it, you can make it.

Start your engines. 

_5..._

_4.._

_3._

_2_

_1_

_0_

You close the door and head for your room in an all out sprint. 

The hallway is twelve feet long. 

Your legs are moving as fast as they possibly can, breath coming in short little huffs because you can hear him and he can hear you and there's footsteps, there's fucking footsteps, but you're so close, just a couple feet to go, even though your senses are giving out, you can't feel anything so you just breathe.

_Breathe in_

_Breathe out_

_Breathe in-_

You don’t make it.

A hand grabs the back of your shirt and yanks you up and backwards, cutting off your air with a sharp gasp, calloused fingers brushing over your neck and making you shiver in a way that makes you feel disgusting to your core. You’re scrambling midair, legs flailing aimlessly as the large, ominous force looms behind you, holding you by the scruff so easily. You can't fight back. You haven’t been training like you should be. And he won't go easy. He _never_ goes easy. 

There’s a rough laugh behind you, and the only way anyone could ever classify such a strangled, terrifying sound as a laugh is if you had heard it before, maybe in your nightmares, or from some Joker wannabe dude on the street wielding a six inch serrated knife. It’s not even a real laugh, just this torn up ironic chuckle that means _I won_. The pathetic squirm in your abdomen makes you feel even weaker.

It takes effort to breathe calmly and force your racing heart to calm down, to listen to every other tiny sound, anything that could indicate that he’s going to do something.

“I’m back,” His voice came gruffly from behind you. You take another deep breath.

“Cool,” You squeaked back. It wasn’t as nonchalant as you’d like, but it’ll do. Passing.

“You been goin’ to school, you little shit?”

Fuck.

Defcon 2.

“Yeah. When I feel like it.”

“The _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?”

You’re choking on your pride, desperately grasping for words that aren’t snarky, that won’t get you bruised so bad you’ll actually have to actually go to the hospital. You’re also literally choking. His hand is tugging so hard on the collar of your shirt that it’s digging into your neck, cutting off your air supply still. You weren’t prepared for this.

 _Striders are always prepared_.

“Time to pay your fuckin’ dues, Davey.”

_Fuck_

_Fuck_

_Fuck_

_Defcon 1_

You can’t think straight, your head is spinning as he carries you to his room by the back of your collar like a naughty puppy. You hate him so much. It’s taking all your willpower not to cry. _Striders don’t cry. Striders don’t cry._ You barely even feel your back hit the bed, barely even feel as he fusses with your button, not the slightest bit clumsy, not a single emotion cracking through his ironclad stoic facade. Your vision clouds with tears, and you blink them away as best you can, biting down on your lip hard enough to taste blood to keep yourself from making a single sound.

You know his camera is sitting on the shelf, filming you. Filming your reactions. You know him and his sick friends will laugh about it later, and even though you’ve managed to disable the ones hidden in your room to watch you when you change and sleep, you know that he won’t stop. There’s no use crying about it. You can fucking handle it. The familiar view of the ceiling, plain white paint with small cracks is all you can see. You let yourself drown in that, go nearly limp staring into the white. You imagined it was sucking you in, taking away all your other senses, turning them to white nothingness. The pain below is faint. You know you’ll be sore for the next couple of days anyways, but it’s okay. You don’t have to feel anything right now.

You’re numb.

* * *

Reality seems to fade back into view when you’re in your own bed. You can taste something vaguely salty on your tongue, and your room smells like the comforting scent of socks and developing solution. Sitting up, yes, yes you are definitely sore. The feeling makes you groan softly, glancing around before standing up and hobbling to the bathroom.

You yawn, and the salty-sticky taste is worse.

You spend the next couple of minutes throwing up over the toilet as your phone buzzes back in your room.

Sitting up with shaky arms and legs like a newborn deer, you limp to the sink, turning on the faucet and gulping down handfuls of cold water, splashing your face with it, letting the cold bring feeling back to your facial muscles. You aren’t numb anymore.

You don’t think you can handle responding to any of your messages. Roxy again. Kanaya. Terezi.

 _Karkat_?

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 17:43. 

CG: HEY. 

CG: KANAYA HAS BEEN ENDLESSLY BITCHING TO ME, ABOUT YOU BITCHING TO HER, ABOUT MY ABSENCE. 

CG: FOR YOUR INFORMATION, I’M NOT REQUIRED TO BE AT YOUR SERVICE EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF EVERY FUCKING DAY. 

CG: I’M NOT YOUR PERSONAL HANDLER, YOU CAN FIGURE OUT HOW TO SURVIVE WITHOUT MY PRESENCE FOR A COUPLE OF DAYS, YOU NEEDY FUCKING ASSHAT. 

CG: ARE YOU EVEN HERE? 

CG: WOW. SPEND DAYS WHINING ABOUT ME AND THEN NOT EVEN RESPOND TO MY MESSAGES, DICKHEAD. 

TG: im here 

CG: THANK YOU FOR GRACING ME WITH YOUR RESPONSE. 

TG: what 

CG: WHAT??? 

TG: what do you want from me 

CG: GOD, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN YOU WERE GOING TO BE EVEN MORE INSUFFERABLE WHEN I CAME BACK. 

TG: okay bye then 

CG: HOLD ON A FUCKING SECOND. 

CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH YOU? 

TG: nothing im fine 

CG: BULLSHIT. 

TG: whatever man 

CG: IF YOU WERE FINE, THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN AT LEAST ONE NONSENSICAL, LONG-WINDED METAPHOR THAT WOULD APPEAR ON MY SCREEN AFTER BEING KEYBOARD VOMITED OUT OF YOUR ASSHOLE. 

CG: SOMETHING IS WRONG. 

TG: no 

CG: TALK TO ME, YOU EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED DOUCHEBAG. 

TG: no 

CG: DAVE. 

CG: SERIOUSLY. 

CG: DID SOMETHING HAPPEN, OR ARE YOU JUST PISSED AT ME. 

TG: does it even matter 

TG: why do you care 

CG: BECAUSE I'M YOUR FRIEND, YOU FUCKING ASSHAT. 

CG: TALK TO ME. 

CG: FUCKING TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG. 

TG: where should i start, my brother raping me whenever the fuck he feels like it or the fact that hes been gone a month and the food i had for the first week or two was bought with my birthday money 

TG: or 

TG: i 

TG: fuck 

turntechGodhead [TG] blocked carcinoGeneticist [CG]. 

**_FUCK._ **

You probably shouldn't have blocked him, but it's Friday so you don't actually have to see him at school tomorrow. And while you know, not so deep down, that it'll be hard to get through the following days without his text lighting up your screen, you have to.

God, when did you become so fucking needy? When did you suddenly get so fixated on one tiny dude who goes to your school and is actually kind of a dick if you think about it? Why-

_**D** _

_**A** _

_**V** _

_**E** _

_breathe in. breathe out_

What was _that_?

There's a moment of relapse. You just breathe. _In. And out._

It's late. Your door is shut and locked. Bro is probably still around, but he doesn't sound like that, he couldn't sound like that. It was inhuman. It was nowhere near human whatsoever, grating and low and probably going to kill you. But you aren't scared, no fucking _way_ are you scared. 

There's a scraping noise coming from your room. Claws on wood. It's so loud it feels like it's in your own brain.

You stare into the mirror determinedly. _Not real. Not real. Not real_. Red eyes stare back at you in the bathroom mirror for a long moment. The harsh white fluorescent flickers off, and you shut your eyes, taking a long, deep breath. _In, and out._

_You are not the only one breathing in the room_.

There is hot breath on your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as the warm, slightly wet air sets into your skin.

Some ~~one~~ thing's here.

**_D A V E_ **

Teeth scape over your shoulder, so many points it's like harsh acupuncture. 

_In, and out._

You open your eyes.

The bathroom light is back on.

You're standing in the mirror.

_It's behind you._

You take a shuddery breath in, weak and nearly a sob. You're still looking at it. It being… _something_. It's similar to the black thing you saw in your dreams. Shifting in and out of focus, seemingly across different planes of reality, edges always fuzzy and faded. It's not as big. Distinctly human shaped, but with a hunched back, large, bonelike spines protruding out, a massive maw with sharp teeth that jut at every angle and curve below its chin, and two bright yellow eyes with miniscule pupils.

It doesn't do anything at first.

You both stand, silent, watching, observing.

You're the first to speak.

"Please kill me," Your voice shakes with every syllable, head dipping, hands trembling as your knuckles turn white against the cold countertop, bracing you and just barely holding your body up.

**_NEVER_ **

"Why _not_ , for fuck's sake! I want to fucking _die_!" You're screaming and sobbing now, eyes screwed shut as tears stream down your face and drip onto your shirt relentlessly.

**_LOVE YOU_ **

A hiccup catches in your throat.

"What are you?! _WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE_?!"

**_LOVE YOU_ **

You aren't sure why it makes your chest ache so much to hear that again.

**_LOVE YOU DAVE_ **

**_SAFE WITH ME_ **

**_PROTECT_ **

**_TRYING_ **

**_TRYING TO PROTECT_ **

The words already hurt your head to hear, making your brain feel fuzzy and turning every aspect of consciousness into an uphill battle to feel. Everything is so overwhelming, but the more words you try to pick up on, the more tension gathers in your forehead.

 _"I want- to die,_ " You manage pathetically through more sobs.

Darkness envelops you. 

You can't see or hear, but you can _feel_.

There is warmth absently coursing through you, and while everything is dark, it is warm and comfortable and safe. 

You let it take you.

The world doesn't want you. 

_But the dark sure does_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiiii sorry its deadass been three months. But i hope this chapter makes up for it!! I feel like the story was losing some of the original horror vibe i really wanted it to have, so i tried to reign that back in, and changed the plot around a little.  
> I watched ~14 horror movies in the last week or so!! And that influenced my writing for sure. anyways watch The Ring, It Follows, Autopsy of Jane Doe, and Raw if you like horror like i do


	8. ... where do we go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q: when we all fall asleep, where do we go?  
> A: Bro can tell you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may have been seven months, but i return with a very late update of 1.6k words! It's short, but the content is important. Y'all are gonna like this, I think. It's what I've promised from the start, and I think it's going to lead into something that I hadn't planned for, but im rather excited about. >;)
> 
> For everyone who wants to fuck venom, enjoy gratuitous Big Dark Monster Karkat descriptions.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

Watching his chest rise and fall is all that's keeping you tethered here, but you don't care. 

The restraints of being in human form can just be so fucking uncomfortable. Too many harsh edges, confining your form, keep you pulled together in that tiny, delicate thing. It constantly feels like you're just barely contained in the thin, fragile skin, behind brittle bone that could snap if you aren't paying attention. It's so restricting, and you know that sometimes, wisps leak out. Bits of the shadows that reach and stretch, finding the dark corners and pulling you there. Where you _belong_. It's hard, draining, being like that so much. The light. The people. The pure physicality of it all. 

But now, you're finally free. 

It's a precarious situation, given. You're still spending a shit ton of energy right now, and it's going to cost you later. Sitting in Dave's closet. Your human's little closet. You know he keeps food well stocked in here, so if he does manage to overpower you when you're just that low on energy, it's easy enough to get him something to sustain him. You're being drained quickly, and therefore, looking less and less human by the second. There's shadow seeping out of the closet. It's all over Dave, which you know is dangerous, but right now, it's probably all that can keep him safe. His skin is ashy and pale, hair losing color even further. His clothes have even lost saturation. The shadows under his eyes, around sharp corners of his face and bones, have grown darker, longer. 

The dark is safe.

He'll be safe with you. 

But for now, you're focused. You take a moment to shape a hand, something sturdy enough to reach out and adjust him. It had been several hours since he had been fully conscious, and you're glad. He needs this. He needs some time to rest- and you do too, but that isn't important right now, no matter how drained you are.

There's a knock on the door.

Actually, let's rephrase that.

The door to the bedroom creaks open the tiniest bit, and then you can feel it being whipped open, a gust of air washing over you, even through the shut closet doors.

It's _him_.

You refuse to let that _thing_ get to the both of you. You refuse to let that fucking disgusting shit stain get anywhere near Dave, especially right now. He's delicate. In between worlds. You aren't the true monster here.

It took a ton of energy just to get him here. You look down fondly at him, your sweet little human, curled up on his side, head in your lap, and push his hair around. Dave just barely shifts in his sleep. He's so relaxed like this, completely ragdoll limp, eyes shut peacefully, no hardened look on his face or tensed fists, just soft, slow breaths. Normally when Dave sleeps, he is completely tense. Ready. He jumps at the slightest sound in the room, goes completely still- he's nearly caught you trying to sneak out from underneath the bed or under the closet several times, just the slightest shift of the bed or the closet doors. He doesn't snore anymore- you know he used to, but he eventually trained himself to stop, just so he wouldn't make any noise when he slept.

For safety.

But now he's here, relaxed, in your lap. You move his hair again, and he doesn't stir. Dave almost seems to lean up into it, pressing against your hand like a cat.

You smile.

It isn't pretty, not by human standards. Your mouth stretches across what could barely be called a face, a loose black form above the rest of you. It's one of the most effortless parts to maintain, though, long, white teeth, jagged and crisscrossed, pushing out from black gums, ready to easily tear through either flesh and muscle, or the fucking fabric of reality. 

The closet doors are pulled open, and you look up.

It's _him_.

His mouth falls open. He looks.. _stunned_. It's bizarre to you, seeing emotion displayed from this one. You've only really caught glimpses of this human- seen him when him and Dave would fight with their swords on the roof, metal clanging loudly as you hid behind the heavy door, hiding from the yellowed Texas sun late in the day; when he would stock the fridge with various weapons, or brought someone home in the middle of the night, watching Dave shove a pillow or his headphones over his ears, and go to school with raccoon circles the next day. You like how they look on him, but not how he gets them.

But right now, you drink in the look on his face.

You know what you look like. You hadn't ever really taken time to observe your form past actually learning to control it, but you know you don't look like anything in the realm of human. Two rows of large fangs, poking out of the dark hole that is your mouth, a long, pointed tongue peeking out between them. Two eyes, yellow with black slits. Black skin. A pair of (unfortunately small) horns, sharp and poking up out of your skull. It's visible partially, the shiny black poking through the ever-shifting wisps on your head.

**You're terrifying**.

_Good_. 

He just _stares_. 

You know some about this man. He is quick, unfairly quick, and you just know that he isn't _fully_ human. You've seen the way he moves- not all the way there, slipping between realities. He has experience with your kind, but that doesn't mean he can't fear you. He knows what you are. And while he may have abilities, he isn't of the shadows. _Flash stepping_ , they called it. Rare in humans, and genetic, but some definitely have it. The Council keeps tabs on all of them, making sure they're being watched. You knew this man could do this, as well as the people who ended up abandoning him. They didn't want it. They didn't want him, or Dave. And now you've been specifically assigned to what the shadow world calls " _dangerous_ ", but all you want to do is protect your human. 

Every move of the elder is quick and miniscule, but of course you can feel the shift of reality. The air warbles, shifting like heat coming off the pavement on a hot summer day. His power is so minor, it doesn't even effect the light in the room. Nothing flickers or blinks. He's just lifting the veil, passing through it as he wishes. 

It's dangerous. 

_Does he know how easy it is to get trapped in limbo?_

_**CAREFUL**_.

He doesn't listen. 

A gloved hand reaches into the closet, and while his form fuzzes at the edges, it doesn't matter. Instinct is here for you. 

Then the room is completely devoid of light. Not just the lights. Vision is impossible. Black is all there is. No color. No light. Just pure, unfiltered darkness, surrounding the both of you. 

You hear his sharp intake of breath, feel the crackle of him shifting again. He thinks he's powerful. 

Goddamn. 

_He really has no idea what the hell he's fighting here, does he._

The light is still gone, but you let it flash on again quickly. He's standing across the room, and now he's holding a sword.

Ha.

_Metal._

The light is dim. It's normal darkness. Not the kind of darkness you reside in. Just darkness now. You want to see a little more. 

There's a glint from his blade. You're leaving the closet, Dave left in his own little curled up ball, darkness shifting around him, shadows changing and moving. It takes a moment for you to stretch- there's a loud cracking sound, and then several more. Your spines come back up to the surface, running down along your back and up your head. You find yourself some feet. Claws grow out quickly, only three fingers today with your low energy, but it's plenty. 

He lunges at you, sword pointed at your throat.

It's unexpected. 

The blade catches your chin, and you hiss, the light in the room nearly trembling. 

You reach forward, one large clawed hand closing around the blade. You can feel bright, deep red dripping to the floor.

You twist your wrist.

The blade bends in half.

It _snaps_.

Metal clatters to the floor.

You bring more light in. You want to see the look on his face.

Leaning over, you can feel your height growing. His form is flickering more and more, and his face is becoming more expressive. It's not him doing that. He doesn't know what's happening. 

You lean over him, wrapping your hand around his neck.

It's easy to lift him up off the ground. You've got to be almost eight feet by now, back hunched under the ceiling, and he's trying to grasp your hand, but he can't. His hand slips away, flickers again. 

You squeeze _harder_.

The whole room goes dark. There's a high pitched ringing for a long moment. 

_He's gone._

The first thing you do is sigh and shrink yourself down. You're smaller now, normal sized. Flickering much more, but the light returns to the room. You feel about to collapse, but you need to do one more thing.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA].

CG: I DID IT.

CG: HE'S GONE.

CG: I'M FUCKING EXHAUSTED. I CAN BARELY MOVE. BUT I FUCKING DID IT.

CG: HE'LL NEVER MAKE IT OUT OF THERE. HUMANS CAN'T SURVIVE IN THERE WITHOUT ONE OF US 

CG: DAVE IS GOING TO BE SAFE NOW.

CG: I'M OKAY.

CG: HE'S OKAY.

CG: I WAS CAREFUL.

CG: I LOVE HIM

You can't even use your claws at this point. 

In seconds, your form shrinks up and you're slithering back into the closet for a well needed rest. 

You won.

Dave is safe. 

And while you know what's coming will be hard, you know he can handle it.

Besides.

He was never fully human in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's horror movie recommendations:  
> Green Inferno  
> In The Tall Grass  
> As Above So Below  
> Black Swan  
> V/H/S  
> Creep (okay it's more comedy than horror tbh.)


	9. COME HERE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KIND OF AMNESIA TIME!
> 
> Yall don't even know how close i was to writing real porn here at the end, but it's somethin else instead.

It's been three days since you told Karkat.

Things... hadn't really changed. Between you two, at least. He's acting like nothing happened (sort of) which is suspicious for him. You do notice the long glances. The way he frowns at some of the jokes you make. But other than that, things between you both were normal. You'd hang out after school sometimes, and now he was going home later and later. It was nice. You'd watch movies on the school computers and he'd cry and you'd laugh at him for crying and he'd sock you in the arm and tell you to shut up and you would.

But in terms of other things, life was different.

The first thing you notice is probably how _slow_ life seems all of a sudden. 

Yeah, ADHD can be a bitch, but shit isn't normally _this_ slow. Your classes feel ten times the length. You go through several lengthy discussions in your own damn head before it's even been twenty minutes. Even classes you like seem long. It's like time has been stretched around you, and you have no idea why. It's nearly painful- the day doesn't seem as though it's ever going to end. 

You've been lucky lately, too. You know exactly when things are happening. You haven't woke up late once in the last few days. You're perfectly on time to school. It's like God just suddenly gave you a bass-boosted internal clock, if that makes sense. (It doesn't, really, but whatever. Who's gonna yell at you for the shit you say in your own brain?)

That day itself... it was a weird one. You remember coming home and seeing Bro, but it was so brief and he left so quickly afterwards it wasn't a real interaction anyways. And then you got into bed and just fell the fuck asleep. You definitely woke up feeling rested, but you don't really remember being so tired in the first place.

Whatever. It was a weird day. Everything was a little hazy. But you definitely remember what you told Karkat. 

You don't remember why. Nothing bad had happened. It was a quiet night. Bro hadn't even been back since then. But whatever the reason, you know it happened. The texts are still there on your phone.

But.. everything is _fine_.

Everything is fine and normal. For the first time in a _very_ long time.

* * *

It's your first day back after school where you actually feel safe. 

You're carrying two papers bags filled with groceries under both of your arms, and it's hell carrying both of them and your backpack, but this is kind of routine. Every once in a while you have to dig into your skateboard money to go and buy some decent groceries. And they had some mangos on sale for like, a dollar each. Real shit up in Safeway.

Once both bags are set down with a grunt, you begin to carefully take all the swords out of the fridge and set them aside. Bro has been gone for such long periods, you just keep the beers he leaves in there on the bottom shelf, and put whatever else you want in there. He hasn't bothered you about it, so he must really not care, which is good. You actually have the good apricot jelly in there sometimes.

The swords are placed just in the hallway, and it's wide enough that you probably won't trip over them, but they're there if you need them. You trudge back to the fridge, putting a carton of milk and a new ketchup bottle in. Ah, shit, you left the mayo next to the swords. You turn around to go and get it, taking a step.

You blink. 

_Wait, what?_

Turning around, you're already in the hallway. 

It can't be possible to have, like, two second amnesia, is it?

_Wait_.

Wait wait wait wait.

You _flashstepped_.

_You fucking flashstepped._

You weren't ever able to do it before. So why is it easy all of a sudden?

You weren't even paying attention. You'd spent years trying, trying to force your body to drag you through space faster than physically possible. Honestly, you were never really sure exactly how Bro did it for all that time. You've taken Physics. Human bodies just don't move around space like that. They don't push through air like that. There's _resistance_. 

Bro had spent so much time lofting it over you, too. _Why can't you do it? You scared, you fuckin' pussy? It runs in your blood. Striders can flashstep_. You'd never asked Dirk if he could do it when he was still around, never considered it important, but now you were starting to wonder if it actually did run in the family.

* * *

The only thing you had left to do was show your best bro.

"Karkat! Dude!" You were shouting across the sidewalk already, but he was either ignoring you or wasn't paying attention. He was headed in the opposite direction of the apartment, but you didn't even bother to care, just heading in his direction with soft huffs, backpack and books slapping against your back as you ran to catch up with him. 

When you reached his side, clapping a hand on his shoulder, he only sort of jumped, grumbling and tugging his headphones down near his neck. Whatever the hell he was listening to was really quiet, it was still playing but you could barely even hear it.

"What?" He grunted. Grinning, you jogged in front of him, turning around and walking backwards in front of him with your arms crossed smugly. 

"You won't believe it, dude. It's _so_ fucking cool, you ready?"

You earn another grunt in return. He's obviously skeptical, and you began running again, taking in the cool air until you were several feet in front of him. You didn't stop, shutting your eyes and grinning as the world did a 360 on you, and you were still running, but now you were right behind him. 

Karkat paused, stopping where he was and frantically looking around where you had just been. He stopped so suddenly you promptly crashed into him, chest into back, knocking the both of you into the ground. 

"Haha- fuck-" You were sort of wheezing, a little out of breath on top of him, and Karkat squirmed and pushed you off onto the pavement, letting the both of you stand back up. He had almost a defensive stance, staring at with a look of sharp suspicion in his eyes. 

" _What the fuck was that?_ How did you do that?" He said it sort of slowly, almost like he knew, but he wanted to know how *you* knew.

"It's flashstepping, bro! I can finally, _finally_ fucking do it!" You raised your arms up in the air, grinning wide still. 

"Flashstepping?"

"Hell! Fucking! _Yes_!"

You were standing up in front of him, and then you were next to a telephone pole, and then at the end of the block, and then running back towards him, crashing right into his chest again with a wheezy, carefree laugh. This had to be some sort of an equivalent of a runner's high. You felt so _good_. It was so easy, and while it made you sort of out of breath, it didn't matter. It made you feel _good_.

Karkat didn't share your grin. His face looked almost worried, a sharp tooth worrying over his bottom lip. 

"When did you just... start doing this shit?" 

"Yesterday when I was unpacking groceries. I just did it. I've been trying for _years_ , my bro was always able to-"

Karkat's entire face went from pale to entirely grey. 

"Your bro?"

You nod sort of awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. I mean, generally, he sucks, but he was always able to flashstep. Said it _ran in our blood_. I just couldn't before, dunno why. I think I was just trying too hard."

Karkat just sorta shrugged. He pulled at the collar of his sweatshirt, glancing at the slowly setting sun. "That's cool, dude. I... Have _no_ fucking idea how you're doing it. But it's fucking cool, sure."

It wasn't as enthusiastic of a reply as you were hoping for, but it was plenty. You feel great. You slung an arm around his shoulders, knocking his side with your own. "Grrreat. Now. Vantas. The fuck is going on with you? I literally _never_ hear about the shit you're doing. It's always just me spewing shit about my own bull." You aren't wrong about that- you just spilled some seriously heavy stuff the other day, but he'd been so cool about it, you've just been trying to talk about literally anything else.

_Literally_ anything. 

"Uhhh, I'm still staying at Kanaya's, fuckwit, and no you can't come over. I'm not letting you judge my movie taste up close and personal. I can deal with the verbal abrasions over message, but I refuse to look you in the... _shades_ -" That gets snicker from you, and then a scowl from him, "-as you proceed to rate every single celebrities' tits in the film."

"Just one pair."

"Fuck you."

You laugh, and he rolls his eyes, and everything is okay.

* * *

Everything is fucking horrible.

You've woken up from seven different nightmares, and it's not even 2 am yet. It's fucking miserable. They're all different- watching yourself helplessly being dragged away screaming into a dark room, and watching the large door shut; feeling yourself choke and heave, to ultimately cough up black blood; being desperately thirsty, and every faucet, every liquid in reach, turning to thick, syrupy black tar in your mouth. It's all horrible, and just so fucking weird. Your brain is on some serious shit. It wasn't like you smoked or anything weird. You don't know why it's happening. 

Time is so slow still. 

It's miserable. 

You don't know what changed. Something is going on with you, and it hurts. It's like your whole inside is sore, all your organs are tensed. Your head has been throbbing for so long you're starting to assume it's become your natural state. 

So now you're just laying there. The covers have been strewn aside, cast onto the floor, and you're laying on your back sweating through your t-shirt. There's basically no way to go back to sleep now.

Well.

You do have... _an option._

But you don't feel safe enough to do that right now. 

Also, you feel like your second bedside drawer got ransacked by him again, so there's no point in getting all worked up for nothing. 

You can't help it at this point though. 

You just can't stop fucking thinking about _Karkat_ right now. 

Your phone buzzes, and it feels like a fucking sign from God. You've gotta be psychic or some shit. All you gotta do is think, and Karkat's gonna message you, hell yes.

tentacleTherapist [TT] has begun pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:40.

_Ugh_.

TT: Dave.

TT: Dave, if you keep ignoring me, it's just going to be even worse of a situation when you see me at school tomorrow.

TT: I'm not sure whether Roxy messaged you or not, but I requested that she did.

TT: I don't expect you to entirely understand my situation. It's quite complicated in a manner that just- doesn't involve you.

TG: oh no little miss thing wants attention

TT: Hello.

TG: the hell do you want

TT: Don't be so tactless. I'm not asking for anything.

TG: what a surprise

TG: i cant even imagine you asking for anything else since youre already swimming in cash from your moms books

TG: then again with all the money she spends on wine i guess yall arent exactly rich anymore huh

TT: Watch yourself.

TT: You're playing on a very risky field, Strider.

TT: Now let me talk, here.

TG: no

TT: So mature.

TT: I hold you in the highest esteem for your grace with this entire situation.

TG: calling it a situation doesnt make it better, you heartless bitch

TT: Dave!

TT: What the fuck is wrong with you?

TT: Do you have some sort of hormone imbalance that makes you incapable of empathy?

TT: God. I don't even know why I try with you anymore.

TT: I beg Mother to move us all the way down here, to this hellhole of dry heat and shitty seafood, just so I can finally interact with my brother that I haven't seen in years, and all he wants to do is berate me for a habit I've been trying to break.

TG: yeah sure

TT: You're horrible.

TT: I don't even understand why I thought reaching out would be a good thing.

TT: You can't even hold a bit of respect for a sensitive issue.

TT: Goodbye, Dave.

TT: I'll see you tomorrow at school.

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:58.

Your phone is set back onto the nightstand. God. She's _so_ fucking full of herself. Can't even take five seconds to apologize for being shitfaced when you went to go see her.

You just need to talk to someone decent, but you already checked, Karkat was offline. Hopefully asleep, safe at Kanaya's.

And you're already thinking about him again.

It's not like there's any other way you're getting to sleep at this point. 

Karkat.

Karkat.

_Karkat_.

You can put your head right on top of his. His hair pokes your chin when he's settled into your chest. He has oddly sharp teeth. Sharper than they should be. You've never seen his tongue, but Terezi claimed he's able to lick places you shouldn't be able to. He only wears baggy sweaters, and he has scratches all over the sides of his face from absently itching and cutting his own skin accidentally with those long nails. His eyes are deepset and hollow, so brown they look black even in the sunlight. His hair spikes up in the most unusual way.

And god.

Those _teeth_.

Those fucking...

_Teeth_...

* * *

You don't sleep.

There's no way you're able to sleep.

You hate that the person you love most is starting to scare you.

* * *

At 8:10 am sharp, you're standing outside the school doors, pacing back and forth. Your school supplies and phone had been halfheartedly shoved into your backpack, but you weren't even thinking about school today anyways. You're pacing, and pacing, and pacing. 

Where is he.

_Where is he._

8:15 and he's here. You see him and Kanaya chattering as they walk together down the street. Your blood runs cold and you're not pacing anymore, you're standing stock still, it's impossible to move anymore. Your feet have been cemented to the ground and there's no way you're going to move. You don't know what you're feeling, either. _Madsadangryhurtbetrayed **liar**._

He's five feet away, and the two of them have spotted you. Kanaya waved elegantly. You don't even nod. Your mouth is set in a straight line. They look between themselves nervously, and you don't care.

Karkat raised his eyebrows, shoving his phone into his pocket. "Hey, what's up? How's the flash-thing going?" 

You ignore his question.

"I need to talk to you."

His eyes flick to Kanaya- but she's already gone. At she knows how to take a hint fast.

"Oh." He nodded, shifting his backpack straps. You turn, stalking back around the brick wall to behind the school, the wall opposite the bleachers.

Karkat followed, seeming a little sheepish, if not nervous, glancing at his phone before putting it into his bag once and for all. "So, wait, did something fucking ha-"

"What the _fuck_ is going on." Your teeth are gritted, both hands curled into fists. You haven't put a hand on him yet, and you're not going to hurt him, but your instincts say do it. Your nails dig into the skin of your palm. You can't take your eyes away from his face. His eyes are deep and sunken, and they're so black you don't really believe that they're brown. 

"... uhm. The fuck are you talking about?" He drew his eyebrows together, crossing his arms, but you could see the hesitation.

You shook your head.

"I know what's going on so _stop_ fucking pretending you aren't something else."

Karkat is silent briefly, tilting his head and taking a quick breath before speaking. "Dave, I don't know-"

" _Yes_ , you fucking _do_! The fucking-" You make a nonsensical gesture with your hands. "- _thing_. That I keep dreaming about. I don't know what it is but I _know_ it has to do with you. So just tell me."

"Did you sleep last night?"

"Tell me. _Right fucking now._ Or I'm done. I can't do this."

Another silence. He's running a hand through his hair, and you glance down and see his hand curving into his thigh, nails biting through the fabric.

He lets out a sigh. "You won't understand."

"That's what everyone keeps saying, but I'm not fucking stupid! Just tell me!" You're well aware that you're shouting now. Everyone's already inside, so it doesn't matter, but you can hear your words echo throughout the empty space.

"Dave, it does have to do with you, but I just can't tell you, I'd get in such _huge_ fucking trouble that-"

"What!? What?!"

"-that they'd just kill me."

Now you're silent, staring at your feet.

" _Why_."

"Because! You aren't supposed to know about this shit! That's why- I just had to fucking, change some things around."

" _What does that mean_."

"It doesn't matter, okay, what-"

"Why won't you tell me??!"

" **BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO FUCKING LEAVE YOU ALL ALONE HERE**!"

You didn't think someone so small was capable of being so loud.

You swallow, and he's panting, fists curled into his jeans, and you can actually see blood on his nails. He managed to fucking cut his own skin.

"Where's my Bro."

"Wait, why would I-"

"Don't fucking pretend. _Just tell me_."

He stares at you, and you hate how much your chest clenches at the desperation and hurt in his eyes.

"Dave, I can't tell you anything," He said weakly.

" _Fine_." You replied sharply. Karkat looked a little hurt, but more exhausted than anything. It's really, really hard not to care about that right now. You want to ask him if he's been eating enough, and how sleeping is over at Kanaya's, but you don't want to lose this fight, either.

"I'm not mad." You sighed, shaking your head. "I just- actually, _fuck_ , I am mad, because my best fucking friend won't tell me what the hell is going on!" 

"It'll get me in serious fucking trouble if I do!"

You're mad now. You're really fucking mad. Does he not trust you? You've been putting so much in him, and now he just won't tell you anything, anything at all, about what's going on?

" _Listen_." He was speaking again, stepping towards you and digging one finger into your chest. "I want to tell you this shit, but I know it's better if I don't. Because if I do, then everything will start to fall apart, and it's already clear that I'm shit at keeping all of this together in the first place."

You stare at him for a long minute, and then you're grabbing him by the collar and kissing him.

It's _stupid_ and you're _angry_ and this is _absolutely not how you wanted it to happen,_ but you don't know what to say or do or think and

And he's kind of kissing back, it's weird and nobody really knows what they're doing here, but it's nice, and you're probably drooling a little but whatever.

_What. Fucking. Ever._

Karkat tugged away from you suddenly, and the both of you are panting now, and he's looking at you like he wants to fucking eat your face right now. _You want to kiss him again._

_You want to do so much with him right now. You want him to do so many things to you right now._

Instead you look at him for another long moment, turn, and walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update horror movie recs:  
> The Platform (not so much horror, but AMAZING)  
> 1922  
> Midsommar  
> Hereditary  
> Gerald's Game
> 
> Oh also, was given this awesome pesterlog formatter by a member of the writer's discord :>   
> [homestuck5.com](http://www.homestuck5.com/)


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